Evil from the Past
by Laiqualaurelote
Summary: Artemis, Foaly and Hermione are kidnapped into the 19th century, and a rescue team including Holly Short, Harry Potter, Aragorn, Van Helsing, Ardeth Bay, Captain Jack Sparrow and many others have to go after them...
1. Prologue

**Evil from the Past**

**Prologue**

Storm winds howling through the woods of 19th-century Transylvania hurled drift after drift of snow against the skeletal trees, filling the frigid air with icy whiteness. Against the darkened sky, Castle Dracula loomed amidst the snowstorm, black gleaming stone walls withstanding the icy blasts sent against it. Lightning fizzed and slashed across the sky, illuminating for one brief instant the castle's left tower.

A bat-like creature swooped in through a window, into the laboratory room. "How goes it, my lord?" asked Verona, slipping smoothly into her womanly form.

"Well, my dear." Count Dracula did not take his eyes of the machine to glance at his bride. Dwergi hurried about the huge contraption, which hummed with every lightning strike, adjusting wires and knobs. A group of them staggered in, bearing an elongated coffin. They shoved the lid off and began heaving the body inside into the machine's pod.

"It is the mummy I requested, my loves," explained Dracula to Aleera and Marishka, who had joined Verona at his side. "I must have a test subject before we try the experiment out on our little darling children. Mummies have malevolent powers, like our offspring shall have, so it makes them fitting test subjects."

Marishka fingered a bandaged hand, eyes wide. "All the way from Egypt? Trapped in a time-lock?"

Dracula laughed. "Indeed. Stand back now, my dears. I will work the machine." He leaned over and dragged a few levers upwards.

The machine burst humming and crackling into life. Dracula gave a manic cackle as a lightning bolt bore down upon the machine's conductor. Flashes of energy sizzled through the wire. The mummy in the pod jerked as thunder crashed in the sky above. Another lightning flash struck the conductor, and a blinding flash lit the room. To Dracula, the sight was exhilarating. His brides watched in collective awe.

The mummy jerked again. Yet another bolt struck, this one greater than the first two, and the machine burst into a ball of energy. Several of the Dwergi screamed as they were caught up in its blaze. Aleera gasped.

"No!" Dracula was taken aback. "This cannot be! The machine was...was built to withstand the lightning blasts! No!"

"Darling," reassured Verona, "you can always build a new one."

The flames died down. Dracula stepped forward to examine the smoking remains of the machine, but stopped as he saw an arm reach out of the pod. The arm reached down and wrenched away the iron bonds that bound its body to the pod as if they were mere threads. A skeletal figure rose out of the pod. A bandaged foot trod upon the laboratory floor.

"What?" exclaimed Dracula in disbelief. "This cannot be – how did you survive? Who are you?"

"Who are you, who brought me back to life?" demanded the mummy.

Count Dracula regained his charming, albeit sinister, manner. "Count Vladislaus Dragulia, at your service. It is I who revived you, in an attempt to invent a device that can revive the dead, and you were the first I tried it on." He did not add that the mummy had been a test subject. "And who may you be?"

The mummy fixed his hypnotic gaze with a cold empty stare. "They called me Imhotep. Here, between my past and my future." Memories flooded back. Egypt, in its ancient glory. The Pharaoh. His monks. And then what had come before: Hell. The ones who had killed him, the man – O'Connell. How had he come here? This was no longer the twentieth century – this was before. A beautiful woman, her long black hair shimmering in the torchlight, her slender hands by her side, swaying as she walked. A choking feeling rose in his throat. Anck-su-namun. She who had betrayed him.

Dracula watched the creature before him. Something told him that it would not do to discard him like a failed experiment, to waste him. "Is there anything I may do for you?" he asked tentatively.

Imhotep raised his head. "I need to feed," he spoke. "I must have a living being to feed on, to regain my organs."

Dracula raised his eyebrows. Here was another being after his own habits. "My pleasure," he said, smiling.


	2. The Time Shuttle

**Evil from the Past**

Author's Note: Officially, this story should be in the Van Helsing category. But due to the fact that I haven't even watched the movie, I moved it to Artemis Fowl. After all, I like Artemis Fowl better.

I realised that I have forgotten to add a disclaimer. So here goes.

Everyone in this story belongs to someone else. Dracula belongs to Bram Stoker. His brides and Imhotep belong to Stephen Sommers. So do the O'Connells and Ardeth Bay. Artemis Fowl and the LEP belong to Eoin Colfer. Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien. Harry Potter and Co. belong to J.K.Rowling. Gabriel van Helsing, Anna Valerious, Captain Jack Sparrow and his crew belong to other writers/directors I don't know. None of them belong to me. That was a long disclaimer, but then I don't intend to include any in my future chapters. So there.

**The Time Shuttle**

_Ops Booth, Police Plaza, Underground_

Captain Holly Short watched the proceedings in the Operations Booth with some apprehension. "Foaly. Time-stops and all are very well, but meddling with the past isn't a good idea. Especially if you're using yourself as a test subject."

The centaur poked his head out of the entrance of his latest invention. "It's very nice that you're concerned about me, Holly, to the extent that you've found time to come watch my latest exploit. And I know what I'm doing. Look at her! Isn't this baby beautiful?"

Holly truthfully could not find anything beautiful about the Time Shuttle, as Foaly had christened it. It was plated with metal of an ugly shade and had a blunt, ungraceful nose. Blue and red lights flickered on and off on it's side. It looked metallically mechanical, and was not what she would call pretty.

Foaly, in a moment of folly, had decided to try it out himself, by piloting his latest brainchild into a random era in the past. It wasn't that Captain Short was adverse to risk; it was, after all, her job. But Foaly refused to even take anyone else along (paranoia), even for protection. "All I'm going to do is take a quick look around and pop back." Famous last words, thought Holly.

The blue lights flickered on in unison. Foaly stuck his head out one last time. "Bye, Holly. If you like I'll bring you a souvenir."

"Shut up. Watch yourself, okay. You are absolutely adamant about not taking anyone else along?"

"They'd only mess around and get in the way. I'll be back in hours, don't worry. Don't crease your pretty forehead."

Holly scowled.

Foaly disappeared back inside the shuttle. "See you," he called from inside. "Now. I'm going to make history."

The Time Shuttle buzzed, hummed, whirred and then there was a loud pop. It had disappeared.

Holly stared at the empty space left behind. "Well, let's hope you don't end up history."

* * *

Foaly had set the Time Shuttle to Random Selection. He wasn't very keen on choosing which era he ended up in. He had never been a history buff in the first place.

The Time Shuttle groaned, then bumped something. Solid. They were there.

Luminous green words flickered across the screen. "Transylvania, 19th century."

Ah. Europe.

Foaly pressed the button which made the doors open with a pneumatic hiss. He stepped out into a field of snow.

He shivered. Centaurs did not like the cold. And he hadn't brought anything woolly or warm.

There was what appeared to be a castle before him. A huge, black, two-towered castle. Foaly had no idea why, but it creeped him out. Very much.

"How quaint. It's a centaur."

Foaly spun around. There seemed to be three women standing between him and the shuttle door. Extremely beautiful, though he wasn't the best judge. Mud Women, judging from their height. Somehow, their dazzling smiles creeped him out as much as the castle did.

"I've never seen one before," breathed the black-haired one. "Should we take him back to the castle?"

"Must we?" replied another. "I've never _tasted _centaur – yet."

Foaly gulped. He did not like the sound of _tasted_.

"No, Marishka." This one seemed to be the leader of the three. "See that?" She gestured at the Time Shuttle. "It's a masterpiece, that one. Perhaps he might offer the Master with some help on the – invention? Or we could persuade him to." Her smile widened, her white – and sharp, Foaly noticed – teeth protruding ever so slightly over her lower lip. "I think we'll take him."

Perhaps it wasn't a good idea to stick around. He began to inch away. Why hadn't he taken Holly's advice about security? Foaly took a deep breath and galloped for the cover of the woods.

"Oh, not the best idea."

Foaly spared a glance back. The sight he glimpsed nearly made his heart stop of shock.

The women leapt into the air after him, transforming in seconds from maidens to monsters. Wings sprouted, fangs elongated, claws extended. The foremost one raised her ghastly head, keening a shrill note that froze his limbs. Then she was upon him.

Foaly yelped as her talons hooked beneath his belly, and he was airborne. With amazing speed, his captor swept up towards the black stone castle, shrieking in laughter. Yelling in terror, Foaly travelled through the air, towards the turret window. His head met the windowsill with a sickening crack. The rest was darkness.

* * *

"Hours," muttered Holly. She had just been to check on the Ops Booth – no news of the Time Shuttle returning. "Well, it's been hours, and where is he? Lost in time." She had a nagging suspicion something was keeping Foaly from returning as he had promised. She had to admit; he was really worrying her this time.

"Captain Short."

She turned. Commander Root was outside the office. "Where's Foaly?" he asked.

"I don't know." She sighed. "He should be back by now, like he said. His absence is beginning to bug me."

"Absence?"

"You didn't know? About the Time Shuttle?"

"You mean he went ahead with that crazy idea?"

"Not so crazy. Apparently he really went back in time, and I'm guessing something's holding him up there."

Root slapped his forehead. "I don't like saying this, but it's beginning to bug me too." He pondered this. "If he's really in trouble..."

"No one can help him. That was the only Time Shuttle he built that works. The other prototypes all busted."

Creases ran across Root's forehead – thinking lines. "Does he have a system for monitoring it?"

"In the Ops booth. He's in the 19th century now; that's all we know."

"19th century isn't so far away."

"Far enough."

"Well. Just stay alert. Let me know if he comes back."

Holly nodded. Root left her office and she turned back to her paperwork, though a funny feeling in her stomach was making itself known. She was afraid for her friend.

* * *

Foaly awoke to the faint noise of dripping. In the gloom surrounding him, he could make out stone walls. He tried to get up and realised he was manacled to the nearest wall. All four of his hooves were chained to the wall, and his hands chained together. Tightly. "D'Arvit!"

A creaking. The prison (he assumed he was in one) door opened, and he saw the outline of a cloaked man. A torch was lit behind the figure. The cloaked man, followed by another bald one, stepped into the prison. The cloaked man was wealthily dressed beneath his cloak, with proud features and long hair in a stylish ponytail. The bald man, who held the torch, wore a long red-and-gold priestly robe and sandals. Neither looked as if they meant well for Foaly.

"We need to have a little chat," began the cloaked man smoothly, as he seated himself upon a stool that seemed to have been placed there for interrogation purposes. The bald man remained standing. "I am Count Vladislaus Dragulia, and I am very interested in your machine."

Foaly decided that it would be better for him if he kept his mouth shut.

"I have inspected it. Apparently it is meant for transporting people through time. The work of a genius indeed. I am impressed."

Normally Foaly enjoyed flattery, but not this sort.

"I believe you built it?"

"And if I did?" replied Foaly guardedly.

"I would like some help with an – invention – of mine. I've been having a problem with it of late, and if you perhaps took a look at it, it might just work out."

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?" answered Foaly defiantly.

Count Dracula did not anwer. Instead he glanced at Imhotep. Imhotep opened his mouth, and a stream of scarab beetles flowed out. They crawled over his arms as the priest grasped his robes and pulled them apart, revealing his chest. It was hollow; gaping holes showed the dry, withered innards. Imhotep smiled, albeit evilly. He spoke, in a tongue which Foaly recognized as Ancient Egyptian.

"You are not the only unique one here, centaur. Nor the most powerful." A scarab beetle ran into a hole on his chest and emerged by chewing through the undead skin to create a new cavity. "We have ways of making you aid us, which you might not like – very much."

Foaly gulped. "What is it you want me to help with?"

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming ... _**The Kidnapping of Artemis Fowl**

In which Foaly makes a great blunder, Dracula makes some important choices and the Brides start on their kidnapping spree.


	3. The Kidnapping of Artemis Fowl

**Evil From The Past**  
  
Author's Note:  
  
I'm trying to loosen up a bit and be more funny. I realise I've been a bit boring of late. It'll get easier after Captain Jack Sparrow comes along, though.  
  
Thanks to mad sam, my first ever reviewer. Thank you oh so ever much! You made my day. I just love reviews – lots of 'em!  
  
Another thing; I have changed the Van Helsing story slightly. Marishka isn't going to die in the village (I need a Full Force of Evil later) and I'm scrapping Carl. Sorry to all the Carl fans, but he gets in the way of the plot. Hope that won't stop you reading –  
  
**The Kidnapping of Artemis Fowl  
  
**_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century_  
  
Foaly was trying to think of a way to get those monsters off his back.  
  
"Um, if you don't mind, I find it kinda hard to concentrate when there are people watching me work." Quite true, by all accounts. Imhotep wasn't buying it, though.  
  
Foaly went back to studying the machine. The lightning idea was intelligent, but very unwieldy and not at all reliable. I'm not supposed to be trying to help! he reminded himself. Pretend, pretend...  
  
Foaly thought of yet another delay tactic. "I'm not sure I can do it myself," he announced finally, turning around to face Dracula and Imhotep. "It's a great invention, seriously, but you need a lot of brainpower to fix something like this. I need some help." Of course he didn't, but anything would do to get himself let off the hook. Although if he had known the repercussions of this unfortunate statement, he wouldn't have even opened his mouth.  
  
Dracula smiled vampirically. (He's a vampire, you needn't mention that, thought Foaly distractedly.) "But of course! You will get all the help you want, so long you complete the machine. Dwergi? You can have the lot."  
  
"No, no. I don't need dumb muscle – manual labour, I mean. I need a genius. A techie to help me fix this thing. But since there aren't any in this century, I'm afraid we'll have to give this project up."  
  
Dracula took two dramatic steps forward. "Give up?" he demanded of the centaur. "I thought you agreed to help?"  
  
"Yes!" gulped the centaur.  
  
"Then don't mention the phrase giving up." He leaned even closer, fangs glinting. "You can have all the brainpower of your modern era that you need. Or is your time machine unable to transport you back to your own time?"  
  
That was when Foaly decided this might be a bad idea.

"Stop," commanded Dracula for the umpteenth time. They were in the Time Shuttle, which contained access to Foaly's files in Police Plaza (strictly a one-way connection, alas). Dracula had ordered Foaly to select his chosen helpers from a LEP list of intelligence, humans and fairies alike.  
  
Foaly obediently paused the scroller. "That one," said Dracula. "Opal Koboi."  
  
Foaly blanched. "Not her. She went insane in prison, apparently. Lost all her technical genius with her sanity." He continued scrolling down.  
  
"Stop." Dracula looked interested this time, more than any of the others. "Who is this? Highest tested intelligence in the whole of Europe? Artemis Fowl."  
  
"Not him!"  
  
Dracula's eyes narrowed. "Not him? You have already dismissed everyone else I have selected. I think we shall keep him. Oh, and that one. Hermione Granger. Not one of your top masterminds, but her profile looks promising. We'll take her too."  
  
Foaly swallowed a lump of dismay. Fowl was a shady character, but he didn't deserve this. And that Mud Girl Granger, she was innocent. If they did manage to capture Artemis and the Mud Girl, Foaly would never forgive himself for making that suggestion of his. Especially since he had no doubts that they would.Dracula held a conference.  
  
Imhotep attended. The Brides did not, as they were busy harassing the nearby village of Vaseria and looking for a certain Anna Valerious they had been told to go after. However, another of Dracula's associates was there too.  
  
Dracula performed introductions. "My good captain, this is Lord Imhotep. Imhotep, meet Captain Barbossa."  
  
Imhotep inclined his head. Barbossa tipped his feathered hat.  
  
"I met the excellent captain a few nights ago. The Devil introduced him to me. Apparently he made the same deal as I did, four hundred years ago, and the Devil thought we might get along."  
  
"See, I got shot by this pirate called Jack Sparrow," explained the captain. "So when I went to Hell, I figured I'd make a covenant with the Devil. Who introduced me to Dracula. And I figured I'd be a vampire, because it'd give me an edge when I face Jack off again for my revenge."  
  
"Ah," said Imhotep, monosyllabically.  
  
"So," said Dracula. "Here's the plan. Imhotep, when the brides come back, you accompany them and Mister Foaly in the Time Shuttle to his modern era. You are to capture these two people." He handed Imhotep a stack of documents containing information about Artemis Fowl and Hermione Granger. Imhotep nodded.  
  
"Captain Barbossa and I will stay behind to work on the defence of the Castle, as I feel th—darlings! What happened?"  
  
The Brides soared through the conference room window, alighting before Dracula. "We couldn't get the girl," sobbed Aleera. "There was a...a...stranger, and he was protecting her, a...and...look at Marishka!"  
  
Marishka, whose wounds were dripping with blood, whimpered.  
  
"Now, now." Dracula embraced her. "You shall recover soon, fear not." He saw Verona and Aleera eyeing him enviously and embraced them too. "I have a new assignment for you, if that will cheer you up."  
  
"Not again!"  
  
"No, no. It'll be fun, I promise. No more strangers, no more defiant princesses. These are children you're kidnapping. You're going with Imhotep and the centaur to the future to capture two new geniuses to repair the machine. It'll be easy, darlings."  
  
The Brides considered. "Very well," spoke Aleera for them, after much discussion.  
  
Dracula smiled. He knew his way with women.Foaly, cursing himself guiltily, typed in the coordinates for Fowl Manor. He was going to regret this, he knew.  
  
"Goodbye, my loves!" called Dracula from outside the Shuttle. "And mind, try to keep your fangs off the captives. I want them alive."  
  
"Anything for you, my lord," replied Verona sweetly, fluttering her eyelids. "Would you like any souvenirs?"  
  
"Only the two I've already requested," said Dracula, winking charmingly.  
  
Foaly, who was handcuffed to the computer desk, winced. He hated all that soppy romantic stuff.  
  
"Farewell!" called Marishka, now healed and beautiful again.  
  
"Farewell!" called Dracula as the doors closed.  
  
Good, thought Foaly as they were sucked into the whirlpool of time once more. At least some peace and quiet, for the time being._Fowl Manor, Ireland, 21st century_  
  
Artemis Fowl, having bid Butler good night, closed his bedroom door. Instead of getting into bed, however, he went to lean against the windowsill. The window had an excellent view of the Fowl gardens and the hills beyond, with the full moon like a luminous glass disc rolling among the wraith-like clouds. Somehow, it gave him the feeling that there was something important he couldn't remember. Something to do with – acorns?  
  
No. He was misleading himself. He should have an early night's rest, so as to have full concentration tomorrow when he would transfer 3 million pounds from the Dijon Imperial Bank into his own account.  
  
Artemis turned away to his bed. Still trying to shake off that funny feeling, he pulled back the covers and got in. He turned back to the window, to catch a last glimpse of the moon.  
  
And got the worst shock of his brief life of fourteen years.  
  
"Hel-lo," purred Aleera, hanging upside down in bat-form, in front of the window.  
  
Artemis opened his mouth to scream. In a whoosh of air, Aleera leapt at him and clapped one clawed hand over his mouth, effectively muffling the scream. Then she hoisted him up and hurled him over the windowsill.  
  
Artemis would have screamed again, but the air was knocked out of his lungs. Seconds before he hit the ground, Marishka swooped down and grabbed his leg. Verona flew alongside. "You'd shut that mouth of yours if you know what's good for you," she advised sinisterly.  
  
Aleera launched herself from the windowsill, soaring above the other two. "Let's go!" she called, then cackled with sheer evil joy as she winged towards the cover of the woods.  
  
In no time, Artemis was bound, gagged and huddled in a corner of the Time Shuttle. Foaly stared at him in horror. "Oh, Frond. Artemis? Are you all right?"  
  
Imhotep yanked Foaly back to the computer. "Silence! You will not speak to the other prisoner."  
  
Foaly glowered in forced silence as he stood by the computer (Imhotep had taken the computer chair for his own private use).  
  
Imhotep wheeled the chair away, to where the Brides had arranged a set of cushions so as to serve as some sort of lounge. "Now, we need to make a plan for the kidnap of the girl. Apparently the institution she studies in is highly protected...."  
  
Once Imhotep had stopped paying attention to the centaur's movements, Foaly leaned over, speaking out of the corner of his mouth. "Artemis. It's me, Foaly. Oh, you wouldn't remember, not after the mind-wipe. I'd better explain everything then. I'm from the LEP. The Lower Elements Police. We're fairies. We live underground."  
  
Artemis tried to register all this information as well as his dazed mind could manage. Foaly, the centaur had called himself. He knew that name. Again that weird feeling he had had at the windowsill. LEP. Fairies. Then it hit him. Total recall. With a rush of surprise, Artemis regained his memory and filled the emptiness inside him.  
  
"Foaly! I ... I remember." He glanced around. "Then what is all this about? Did the LEP send them? What happened?"  
  
"Shut up and I'll tell you." Foaly glanced at Imhotep and the Brides, who were absorbed in their discussion. "See. It was like this, I built a time machine, and then I decided ..."  
  
As Foaly told his tale, the wind outside picked up, rattling the Irish oaks. Somewhere far away in England, a bushy-haired girl shut her window against the storm outside and went to bed, dreaming of her wizarding school and her friends there as she fell asleep. If she had known what would be happening to her soon, she wouldn't have been able to sleep a wink.  
  
**End of Chapter**  
  
Next chapter coming... **Pirates of the Adriatic**  
  
In which the Black Pearl goes to Transylvania for a holiday cruise, Van Helsing gets annoyed and Captain Jack Sparrow finds Anna _very_ interesting. 


	4. Pirates of the Adriatic

**Evil from the Past**

**Author's Note:**

Not utterly sure if Captain Jack Sparrow comes from the 19th century, but I guess it's around there. Well, this chapter is kind of funnier ('cos anything with dear Jack in it is funny.)

Enormous, tearful thanks to JudgeMaster X, JB and mad sam (again!) for giving me such lovely reviews. You people are the best.

By the way, I don't own Captain Jack Sparrow's crew either. The Rum Song is a converted version of 'The Wunnerful Thing about Tiggers' which is a lovely song to drive anyone mad with.

**Pirates of the Adriatic**

_Adriatic Coast, Transylvania, 19th Century_

Van Helsing and Anna had, after running wildly through the Transylvanian woods from the marauding Brides, reached the Adriatic Coast. And Anna's beautiful longing.

"Oh," gasped Anna. "It's...it's..."

"Beautiful?" suggested Van Helsing.

"Oh, no. That's mild in comparison."

She could have stayed there forever, staring on at the sea, the wonderful sea, at its sapphire cerulean waves, its delicate foam, its sparkling sun-kissed waters. With Dracula and her quest forgotten, her family's struggle, her burdens, even Van Helsing standing beside her, all forgotten. Just the sea and its ever-changing glory.

She was, however, distracted by a little bobbing dot on the waves. Which grew bigger. "Van Helsing!" she pointed out excitedly. "It's a ship!"

Van Helsing took out a small spyglass and peered through it at the ship. "Oh, no," he muttered. "It's a pirate ship."

Anna couldn't have cared less if she had known the real meaning of 'pirate'. It was just a whole new wonderful world for her. "Come on!" she cried, slipping away from Van Helsing's side and running down the sandy slope towards the beach and the pirate ship. "Let's go see them!"

Van Helsing, startled, dashed after her. In sight of the sea, she was just like a child without any responsibilities or the burden of her cursed lineage. "Anna!" he yelled. "Don't go down there! Pirates are dangerous!"

Anna did not hear him. She raced down the beach, waving wildly at the pirate ship. "Hello!" she cried. "Are you stopping here?"

Captain Jack Sparrow saw them through his spyglass, from the crow's-nest. The dark-haired girl and the cloaked man with the weapon running after her. Below him, Annemaria and Gibbs were arguing about the weapon.

"I say it's a crossbow," said Gibbs.

"_I_ say it's a rifle," retorted Anamaria

"Shut up, you two," put in Captain Jack Sparrow, sliding down the mast. There was a ladder, but one had to do things with style in front of one's crew. "It's a hostile, that's what it is."

"So are we landing or not?" Anamaria wanted to know.

Jack considered. "We're not going to let a cloaked hostile prevent us from having a holiday, are we?" he decided eventually. "After all, there's only two of them. C'mon, you scurvy knaves! Drop anchor and land!"

"Aye-aye, Cap'n!"

On the beach, Anna could not believe her luck. "They're landing!" she squealed in delight. Van Helsing rolled his eyes.

Jack, as captain, landed first. He took in his surroundings, like any cautious pirate, including the girl and the hostile. The hostile at the moment wasn't attacking, though he had to be watched carefully. The girl looked harmless. Furthermore, she was _very _pretty.

"Hello," said Anna breathlessly.

"Hel-lo," replied Jack. "This be Transylvania?"

"Yes." Anna smiled. "I'm Anna, and this is Van Helsing. Who are you?"

Jack smiled. "Me? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. The Black Pearl here's my ship." He flung his arm out to indicate the crew scrambling over the deck rails onto the sand. "And this be my crew. We've come to Transylvania for a holiday."

Van Helsing snorted. Pirates on a holiday? He'd eat his leather hat.

"Ooh." Anna was fascinated by the ship. "It's a pirate ship, isn't it? Are you pirates?"

"You got a problem wi' that?" snapped Anamaria.

"No," said Anna, looking quite hurt.

Jack gave Anamaria a disapproving nudge and draped a long arm over Anna's shoulder to make her feel better. "Know any good places to visit round here, lass?"

"Um, not a lot of places. There's the village, where I live, but there's nothing much there."

"Ah," Jack turned around to see if his crew had all landed, then turned back to ask another question. "Say, lass, you're a bonny one. You single?"

Van Helsing swiftly un-draped Jack's arm. "Yes. Not that it matters to you." Anamaria showed agreement by rapping Jack smartly on the head with her hat.

Anna glared at Van Helsing. "Anna," he said urgently. If she went on like this...he winced to think of the consequences. "We've still got to kill Dracula."

"Oh." A shadow fell on Anna's features. "I'd forgotten."

"Who?" asked Jack, who had wandered up curiously. "You killing someone?"

Anna explained. "My family has been trying to hunt down this vampire called Dracula for years."

"Vampires suck blood, don't they?" interrupted Gibbs. Jack elbowed him out of the conversation. Anna continued.

"He's becoming even more powerful lately. We think he and his three vampire Brides are trying to bring their baby vampires to life – they were born dead, you see – and he's got some new evil helpers, as we heard the Brides say when they attacked our village yesterday. There's an Egyptian called Imhotep, and some Captain Barbossa, and they're helping him bring the babies t— "

"Barbossa!" Jack shouted, startling Anna and the other listeners. "I thought I shot him! I saw him die!"

"You _shot_ him?" exclaimed Van Helsing. "You were enemies?"

"Oh, you bet." Jack turned to his crew. "You heard her!" he cried to them. "Let's go kill the yellow-faced skulduggering scoundrel again!"

The crew did not provide the expected answer. "Jack!" complained Gibbs. "We're on holiday!"

"Mind yer own business! Mind yer own business!" reminded Cotton's parrot.

Jack ignored the bird. "I'm the Captain, aren't I? Anyway, we can have a drinking party along the way. That's what _I _call a holiday. Savvy?"

The crew immediately cheered up at the mention of drinks. They scrambled up the beach after their captain as he asked Anna to recommend a good pub.

"The pub isn't functioning," said Anna apologetically. "The Brides killed the barman in the attack yesterday."

The crew stopped halfway up the beach and made complanative noises.

"But you can come to my house," suggested Anna hurriedly. "My father used to keep a good stock of rum, and we do have a bar."

Van Helsing's heart sank. Bad move, Anna.

"You mean it?" asked Jack, after a shocked silence. "You'd invite a horde of pirates to your house for a drink?"

"Why not?" replied the princess. "After all, what are friends for?"

The pirates whooped, and rushed up the beach, only to turn around indignantly when Jack insisted on them going back to the ship to fetch the portable cannons "if we're going to be any help against those vamps. Bats. Bloodsuckers. Whatever."

Van Helsing was very annoyed. He had been quite sure up till now that Anna was sane.

* * *

Van Helsing, perched on a stool in the corner of the bar, swirled rum around in a glass bottle moodily.

Everyone else, however, was having a very good time. The crew was not drunk yet, but getting there. Captain Jack Sparrow and the parrot were now trying to teach Anna drinking songs.

"How about this one now?" slurred Jack. "Here....

The wonderful thing about Rum

Is that Rum is a wonderful thing

Its top is made out of fizzy

Its bottom is made out of swing

It's bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy!

Rum, rum rum, rum rum!

And since you know that rum is so great

Let's all drink the rum!"

"And let's – all drink the rum!" chorused the rest of the pirates.

Van Helsing threw the bottle in the sink to see if it would make him feel any better. It didn't.

Anamaria and Jack each grabbed one of Anna's arms as all the pirates formed a circle and began to do the Carribean jig around the table in the bar, all the while singing the Rum Song. Van Helsing wondered if he should take a nap, but the Rum Song doing rounds, loops and parades in his head through his ears was not helping in the least.

Suddenly, he heard something which did not sound so good. "Shut. UP!" he yelled.

The pirates shut up. Van Helsing knew from previous experience that he had approximately five seconds to make his point.

"There's something large in the house," he declared.

Everyone jumped to action stations. Anna whipped out her sword. Anamaria put her hat back on. Jack put the rum away from any possible danger in the bar cupboard and drew his sabre. Van Helsing, crossbow at the ready, sneaked out of the bar and peered down the hallway. His eyes widened in shock. "God help us. It's a...."

A roar sounded before he could finish his sentence. There was a rush of air, and a huge, shaggy creature crashed into Van Helsing, spinning him off his feet. He crashed into the table leg.

"Werewolf!" screamed Anna, and leapt for Van Helsing.

Van Helsing scrambled to his feet with Anna's help, despite what he presumed to be concussion. Anamaria cocked her pistol and fired at the beast, with no apparent effect except to enrage it. It charged the group.

Chaos ensued. The werewolf smashed several glasses as it scrambled towards Anamaria. Jack caught it with a sabre blow across the flanks, which served to distract it from Anamaria and go after him instead. Someone threw a bottle at it, which shattered on its head. The werewolf howled, eyes bloodshot and bestial. It spun around in confusion, and then made for Van Helsing, who was pointing his silver gun at it.

"Velkan, no!" shrieked Anna. For the second time that day, Van Helsing was tackled by the werewolf, the two crashing to the ground. The momentum stunned him momentarily, and the gun skidded away. Everything was a blur of black fur, fangs and snarling. Anna darted forward, although she knew she could not choose between Van Helsing and Velkan, but stopped dead when the gunshot split the air.

Velkan rolled off Van Helsing, both bleeding terribly. All eyes turned to Jack Sparrow – and Van Helsing's gun that he held in his hand.

Anna rushed towards Velkan, kneeling down beside his body. She could see the hole which the silver bullet had made in his chest. He was changing swiftly even as she looked, shedding his wolf's skin and becoming the brother that she had known and loved.

The look of sorrow and pain in his eyes cut her to the heart.

"Anna..." gasped Velkan. "Little sister...forgive me." Then he died, so softly and quietly that she only realised it when his head flopped back upon her shoulder.

"Velkan..." The tears started, flooding her eyes, as she cradled her only brother close in her arms. Impossible! her mind cried, but he was dead. Nothing could bring him back. The tears rolled down her cheeks and her neck, some dripping with quiet finality onto Velkan's cold face. She could not take it. She spun around screaming at Jack: " You killed him! You!"

Jack spread his arms in helpless exasperation. The rest of the crew readied themselves in case Anna attempted to kill Jack in her despair, but it was Van Helsing who staggered to his feet and said quietly, "Anna."

Anna turned, and saw the wound on his shoulder, the bloodied teethmarks. "No..." Velkan had passed his curse on. It's so unfair, her heart cried. Unfair! Papa and Velkan had already been taken from her, and now Van Helsing...

Her grieving flow of tears turned into a terrible, desperate storm. Dracula! It was him, who was rending her life apart, and he would pay! For Papa, for Velkan, and for Van Helsing! Crying her rage out in a new flood of tears, she flung her arms around Van Helsing and sobbed away. Van Helsing did not wince in pain or push her away; he only reached up and stroked her hair gently, comfortingly. No one else in the room moved. They stared at the weeping girl, and the wounded man, and the werewolf's corpse, and the pain in the room was so real it was quite tangible.

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming..._**Defence against the Dark Arts**

In which Holly Short and Commander Root are enlightened, Imhotep infiltrates Hogwarts and Hermione gives Malfoy a nosebleed to think about.


	5. Defence Against the Dark Arts

**Evil from the Past**

Author's Note: Thanks to mad sam, Judgemaster X, Adele Starminster, I AM EOWYN and my beloved classmates Sine-Noir and Manveri for reviewing me.

Beg pardon for the long pause between updates, due to the Long-Dreaded but Inevitable Re-opening of School, and my recuperating from major surgery (forced extraction of my 4 premolars) which resulted in unforeseen inconveniences, including severe blood loss. The one perk is that it's the closest I can get to experiencing being a vampire, it being important writers get firsthand experience to ensure accurate recounts, although my mouth is the one that's providing the blood. However, I doubt anyone would be interested in a thorough [and painfully exaggerated] description, so I shall get on with it.  
  
**Defence against the Dark Arts**  
  
_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, England, 21st century_  
  
In the Great Hall, the line of first-years grew ever shorter as each placed the Sorting Hat on his or her head, waited for the Hat to call out a house, and then scurried to their new house. Harry, Ron and Hermione sat idly at the Gryffindor table, awaiting the feast.  
  
"Gosh, I'm hungry," announced Ron.  
"You always are," retorted Hermione with a disparaging glare.  
  
Harry was scanning the Teachers' Table, to see if he could find the new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Professors Sprout and Flitwick, in excited conversation, Professor Sinistra, Professor Snape – ugly as ever, thought Harry vindictively – Professor Dumbledore, his silver beard and the stars on his midnight blue robe twinkling in the light of the floating candles. And there – the newcomer.  
  
Harry elbowed Ron and gestured at the newcomer. He was bald, his shaven crown reflecting the candlelight like the polished plates before them, and garbed in a blood-red robe with intricate gold embroidery and a high collar. His eyes were huge, dark, and cold. Harry realised this when the new teacher turned slowly to hold their glances with his own morbid one. The three hurriedly lowered their gazes.  
  
"Ravenclaw!" called the Hat. The last first-year took it off and joined the aforementioned house.  
  
"Oh good," said Ron, slightly heartened.  
  
When the uproar had died down, Dumbledore got up. "A few things to mention before we start our long-awaited feast." Ron groaned. "Again, I should remind you that the Forbidden Forest is absolutely out of bounds to all students, and that only third-years and above may visit the village Hogsmeade. Also, I would like you all to welcome our new Defence against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Imhotep."  
  
The mysterious bald man rose and bowed slightly. He was greeted with slight applause from the staff and students. Harry did not applaud. He was still transfixed by Professor Imhotep's frigid stare.  
  
"Now," Dumbledore continued, "I am quite sure you are all exhausted and famished after your journey." Ron nodded hungrily. "So – we may now begin our feast." He clapped his hands, and the golden dishes filled with food. Ron whooped in delight and reached out for the sausages.  
  
Harry leaned over and took some of the sausages as well. For a moment, his trepidation at the sight of Professor Imhotep evaporated as the feast opened in full swing. He and Ron began a comical battle over the sausages, while Hermione tutted in disapproval.  
  
Imhotep watched them from his place. Laugh now, little girl. You won't get much of a chance to later.

* * *

_Julius Root's Office, Lower Elements, 21st century_  
  
"Commander! Commander Root!"  
  
Root glanced up from his paperwork and glared. "Captain Short! How many times have I told you to KNOCK BEFORE YOU ENTER?"  
  
Holly would have pointed out that the office door was open, but she had more pressing things to report. "Commander, we've managed to trace Foaly's Time Shuttle."  
  
Root stood up. "What?"

* * *

_Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, England, 21st century_  
  
"I hate Snape," muttered Ron vehemently as they hurried from Potions Class to lunch. "First day of school and he gives a bloody three-page essay."  
  
"Three pages isn't very much, Ron."  
"Oh, shut up, Hermione."  
  
Both were too busy arguing that they knocked headlong into Draco Malfoy as he left the Great Hall. Hermione's books flew out of her arms and scattered along the corridor. Ron looked up to apologise, saw who it was and shut his mouth firmly.  
  
"Oh, dear," said Malfoy in a tone that did not bode well. "Such a pity."  
  
"What are you talking about?" snapped Harry as he and Ron bent down to help Hermione gather her books.  
  
"My new robes, of course," went on Malfoy. "I'd just bought them for this year, and now they're covered in Mudblood filth."  
  
Ron stood up, with a look that did not bode well either.  
  
Hermione got up too, placing a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Ron! It's...it's not important."  
  
"That's right," sneered Malfoy. "Listen to your Mudblood girlfriend. I have no idea why your parents encourage you ... but then your father's one of those sick Muggle-lovers, isn't he?"  
  
Harry could not possibly have prevented what happened next. Ron's fist swung out, as did Hermione's palm. Both met either side of Malfoy's nose simultaneously with considerable force. There was a loud and sickening crack, accompanied by a spray of blood. Malfoy collapsed on the floor, nose bleeding like a burst drain.  
  
Harry looked at both his friends, shocked. "Ron...Hermione...that was n— "  
  
"Not good." They turned to see Professor Imhotep striding down the hall towards them, his heavy black robes billowing, with a strange look in his eyes. "You," he pointed at Crabbe and Goyle, who had just arrived, "take him to the hospital wing. And as for the three of you..." He gave them the same sinister look. "Fifty points from Gryffindor, and detention for all three of you."  
  
"But Harry wasn't..." began Hermione in protest.  
  
"Silence, girl, or you will lose your house more points!" Imhotep glared. "You three can polish the statues in my office tonight. You are to be there at 10 o' clock. Is that clear?"  
  
Hermione nodded mutely. Ron and Harry were still staring at the injustice.  
  
"Very well." Imhotep swept past them. Harry had a sickly sinking feeling in his stomach as the professor turned the corner and disappeared. If he had asked, he would have realised that the other two were feeling quite as bad about this detention.

* * *

_Chute E74, England, 21st century_  
  
Holly docked the shuttle in the bay. The journey had been uneventful, there being few tourists at this time of the year, and the other administrative obstacles had been cleared by Commander Root and his finger of authority. As a matter of fact, she and Root were the only ones on the mission. The Council wasn't convinced that Foaly was really in danger, so it was a purely espionage mission. In theory, at least.  
  
They emerged from the shuttle bay, shielding immediately. The entrance was located near a huge forest. Holly crept past the shadows. The trees moaned slowly, sending strange shivers down her spine. Root was nearby, she knew, although he was also shielded. A shadow detached itself from a tree and flitted away. Holly jumped, then regretted being so jumpy. Any noise might have alerted a potential enemy. It was probably only a bat, anyway. She concentrated on following the locator beam pinpointing the Time Shuttle.  
  
Behind her, Root adjusted the settings on his blaster. He didn't feel too good about this forest. The shadows could be hiding a whole ambush, and the two of them, though shielded, might still be overwhelmed. Carefully, he stepped through the tendrils of mist that shrouded the forest floor, after his captain. Overhead, the trees whispered and sighed, and a chill crept through the forest that wasn't the wind.

* * *

_Imhotep's Office, Hogwarts, England_  
  
Harry yawned. He had already been in Professor Imhotep's office for two hours, and the row of statues awaiting polishing still stretched out across the front hall. Behind him, Ron was humming tunelessly as he worked on the shelves on the opposite wall. Hermione was further up, polishing the statues in Imhotep's study.  
  
Harry rubbed polish over a golden statue of the goddess Isis and her infant son Horus. Most of the statues were Egyptian. Imhotep was probably Egyptian too. Harry decided that he was heartily sick of anything Egyptian, and wished desperately for detention to end.  
  
In the study, Hermione finished the twelfth in a series of miniature _shabti _figurines and placed it on the table. She picked up the thirteenth and nearly dropped it as she heard Imhotep speak suddenly behind her.  
  
"You are not done?"  
  
"No, professor," she muttered. How he had come in so quietly she did not know, and she wondered how long he had been there. She turned her attention back to the _shabtis_. The faster she got this done, the sooner they would be out of here.  
  
Outside the window, the full moon gleamed pallid in an uneasy cloud sea, a waxen disc in a world of grey wraiths. A chill crept over the windowsill from the Forbidden Forest and stole into the corners of the room.

Imhotep smiled chillingly. All was going according to plan.  
  
Hermione shivered slightly.  
  
Two winged shapes rose from the Forbidden Forest, silhouetted against the moon, and flapped slowly towards the castle.  
  
Imhotep rose and strode silently to his student's turned back.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw something move at the window. She turned around.  
  
Harry had just finished the Isis statue when he heard Hermione scream. He dropped the statue and dashed towards the study, Ron at his heels. They got there in time to see Imhotep grab Hermione by the collar and fling her bodily out of the window.  
  
"_Hermione_!" yelled Harry.  
  
The two of them charged forward, hearts crashing in their chests. But what could they do? Throw themselves out of the window after her?  
  
Imhotep decided the matter for them. Harry felt himself being levitated, reeling backward in the air. He saw Ron rising beside him, mouth open in an empty scream.  
  
Imhotep smiled cruelly. Then he made a hurling movement with his outstretched hand and sent them flying. They hurtled through the air and slammed into the wall of his study. Plaster sprayed over the table.  
  
Imhotep dusted himself off. Picking up certain selected statues and some other items, he hid them beneath his robes. Then he left through the window, landing on his feet two storeys below. Wisps of mists curled around his feet as he strode into the Forbidden Forest. Soon he had been swallowed by the mist and shadows.

* * *

_Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts, 21st century_  
  
Artemis was trying to make the best of the situation. It helped that Aleera was in her less terrifying human form, but not very much.  
  
"Might I know the nature of this venture I have been compelled to participate in?" he asked.  
  
Aleera did not reply. Her lovely dark eyes were fixed upon him, but they were colder than ice and deadlier.  
  
Artemis tried again. "Perhaps we could negotiate," he suggested. "I'm sure we could come to some form of arrangement."  
  
In a flash of white gown and long hair, Aleera had Artemis by the neck in her iron fingers. "The only reason why I haven't killed you yet is because the Master told me not to," she hissed. Artemis felt her grip tighten, choking the life out of him. "So you'd better be nice, boy, because when he's done with you..." Her fangs extended, white and gleaming and terrifying. "I'll enjoy hearing you scream." She released Artemis contemptuously. Artemis fell onto Foaly, who was aghast with shock. Artemis collapsed on the floor, massaging his neck.  
  
"I wouldn't try that again, if I were you," muttered Foaly, somewhat sympathetically.  
  
Someone slammed a fist against the door. "Aleera! We're back!"  
  
Foaly reluctantly hit the "Open Door" button at Aleera's domineering gaze. They heard footsteps down the narrow metal corridor that led to the control centre, and then Verona and Marishka entered the room. Verona dumped a dazed bushy-haired girl who had her hands chained onto the floor next to Artemis.  
  
Artemis scrutinized the newcomer. Her arms were scratched badly, and the red marks showed where the Brides had gripped her, but apart from those she was suffering from nothing worse besides trauma. As he watched, she pushed slowly up from her sprawled position on the floor until she was sitting upright. She brushed a stray lock of hair off her forehead. She was wearing black robes, he noticed.  
  
"Where am I?" she spoke faintly.  
  
Foaly leaned across Artemis to get a good look at her. "You're Hermione Granger, aren't you?"  
  
"Yes." The girl nodded wearily. She looked down and noted with dismay the shackles on her wrists.  
  
"Well," conceded Artemis. "Since we are all in the same boat at the moment, I suggest we make each others' acquaintances. I am Artemis Fowl the Second, at your service."  
  
"Foaly," said the centaur.  
  
"You're a centaur, aren't you?" observed Hermione. "Like the ones in the Forest. I'm Hermione Granger. Could someone please explain why I'm here?"  
  
Artemis looked at Foaly. "You can do it," he said, "since you know so much more about the whole business."

* * *

_Imhotep's Office, Hogwarts, 21st century_  
  
Harry came round, very painfully. He was quite sure something was at least sprained, if not broken. He forced his eyes open and saw Ron. Ron was lying on top of him. There was an ugly gash on his forehead, from which blood was dripping onto Harry's face.  
  
"Ron?" whispered Harry. "Ron!"  
  
Ron came round too, with as much difficulty. "Harry?" Then suddenly he bolted upright. "Hermione!"  
  
Harry scrambled out from under Ron and dashed to the window. Through the darkness he could make out Imhotep's figure disappearing into the Forbidden Forest and the two black shapes winging ahead of him. Hermione, he decided, was with them. Her screams could be heard for miles around.  
  
"We need to go after them," said Ron.  
  
Harry agreed absolutely. He turned to make a dash for the door, and his ankle twisted sharply. "OW!"  
  
"Are you hurt?"  
"Ankle. Sprained."  
"We're not going to make it, Harry. What's going to happen to Hermione?"  
"Wait. I've got an idea."  
  
Harry pulled out his wand and pointed it at the open door of the office. "Accio Firebolt. Accio Invisibility Cloak."  
  
They waited. For an infinitely agonisingly long time, while the winged shapes got further and further away. Then they heard a whoosh. Seconds later, the Firebolt sped to Harry's side, hovering obediently by him, one half obscured by the Invisibility Cloak. Harry mounted the Firebolt, throwing the Invisibility Cloak on. "Get on, Ron. It'll have to carry the two of us."  
  
They took off through the window.  
  
The Firebolt was somewhat slower, what with the increased weight, but it was a good broom. Soon, they were soaring across the Forbidden Forest. Some of the mist sneaked up behind them and condensed on the Cloak's material. Both of them were silent. The winged shapes weren't very far ahead.  
  
Suddenly the two creatures dipped and descended into the Forest. Harry sent the Firebolt into a steep dive after them. They landed noiselessly without so much as a feather's rustle upon the forest floor, just in time to see the two creatures morph into women and drag Hermione into a strange silver humming machine.  
  
With unspoken agreement, Harry and Ron pulled out their wands and advanced stealthily towards the machine. They entered into a long corridor, with an opening that led into a chamber filled with light, voices, and the mechanical hum of machinery.  
  
"Let's go in and get Hermione," suggested Ron.  
  
"No, it looks like there're a lot of them, and – " Harry broke off as Marishka stepped out into the corridor, looking straight through them. He could feel Ron shudder beneath her feral gaze, and thanked his lucky stars that they had the Cloak on them. Finally she returned to the room.  
  
Harry looked aside and saw a small screened alcove. Pushing the screen carefully aside, he saw that it was filled with boxes and sacks – some sort of storage space. He limped in, Ron following.  
  
The boxes mostly contained carrots. Harry moved some of them about while Ron held up the Cloak and the Firebolt, and finally managed to create some sort of space behind the boxes for them to crouch in. They settled themselves, to wait for goodness knows what.

* * *

_Forbidden Forest, Hogwarts, England, 21st century_

Holly pricked up her pointed ears . She had heard something. Flicking up the setting on her Neutrino, she advanced towards the noise cautiously.

A man appeared out of the shadows. A bald man, in a long robe. He strode into the path of their locator and began to walk along it. Holly could have sworn that he was leading them to Foaly.  
  
And unintentionally, he was. With a hurriedly stifled intake of air, she saw the Time Shuttle in a clearing of the Forest. It was undoubtedly the Shuttle – those familiar blinking blue lights confirmed her suspicions. The man entered through the open door. Holly approached it, after him.  
  
"Lord Imhotep, at last." A silky female voice emanated from the depths of the Shuttle. "You, centaur. Close the door."  
  
Holly could imagine Foaly rolling his eyes and obeying. But she was startled out that idea by the pneumatic hiss of the closing door.  
  
Holly leapt forward as the door hissed shut. She curled into a tight ball and slid between the doors, yanking her foot free from their metallic clutch. She clambered to her feet in the Shuttle's corridor. "Commander!" she hissed into the mike. "Commander! Did you get into the Shuttle?"  
  
"Over here, Captain." She switched to the anti-shield filters and saw Root peering into an alcove near the door to the control room. "In here!"  
  
Holly obeyed. Together they scrambled over the boxes of carrots (Foaly, she thought with a grimace as she stubbed her foot on a carrot sticking out) and into a recess behind them. "What next, Commander?"  
  
"We wait," came the grim reply. "We wait and see."  
  
**End of Chapter**  
  
_Next Chapter coming_ ......**Middle-Earth Emergency**  
  
In which the Time Shuttle gets stuck in the Dead Marshes, Holly and Root make a truce with a carrothead and a pair of spectacles and Aragorn improves his vocabulary.


	6. Middle Earth Emergency

**Evil from the Past**  
  
Author's Note: I love this. I love this. Lord of the Rings is great. Let us worship Tolkien the great master. _Aiya Tolkien! Aiya ancalima!_  
  
Beg pardon. Let us go back to speaking sense. My beloved Lord of the Rings comes into existence in this fanfiction. To all unbelievers, Lord of the Rings is the best, most wonderful, most beautiful, ultimate book in the universe. Worship Tolkien. And no, my darling Manveri, all of your pwetty pleases are not going to get Legolas into this fanfiction. I should have a lot more to say on this subject, but the rating of my story is PG and I have to obey it. Anyway, if Legolas was in my story, I should waste chapter after chapter doing nothing but abusing him. So there, all you Legolas fans. You are wasting your life and affections.  
  
And no, this is not a parody, it's a serious fanfiction. When I want a parody I shall warn you beforehand. That should assure you, should it not?  
  
**Middle-Earth Emergency  
**  
_Control Room, Time Shuttle, halfway to Transylvania 19th century_  
  
Foaly had just finished typing the coordinates for Castle Dracula and entered the command when he noticed something on the screen. "D'Arvit," he swore quietly.  
  
Artemis had noticed it too. "Foaly, that's not a good thing, is it?"  
  
Foaly stared at the flashing red light, heart sinking. "Not at all, Artemis."

* * *

_Storage Compartment, Time Shuttle, halfway to Transylavania 19th century_  
  
Harry had just received a premonition that something was not right. That premonition came from something (someone?) coming into contact with the Firebolt, sending a jolt down the broom handle. This suspicion was fortified by a whisper that he barely caught in the darkness.  
  
_ "What next, Commander?"  
"We wait. We wait and see."_  
  
Harry nudged Ron. "What?" was the muttered reply.  
  
"Something's wrong. We'd better check it out."  
  
Commander Root received his premonition that something was not right when he barely caught a whisper in the darkness.  
  
"Captain," he hissed in the mike. "We have possible hostiles. Weapon at the ready."  
  
"Roger that, Commander."  
  
Harry pulled out his wand, careful not to let the Invisibility Cloak snag on anything.  
  
Commander Root rose into a combat position. So did Holly.  
  
Ron leaned out, peering into the dim light.  
  
Commander Root took a step forward.  
  
And his foot promptly trod on the Invisibility Cloak and slid.  
  
"D'Arvit!" swore Commander Root as he went down.  
"Commander!" exclaimed Holly, rushing forward.  
"Help, Harry!" screeched Ron as the Neutrino came into contact with his nose.  
"My glasses!" yelled Harry as his spectacles were knocked off and went skidding.  
  
The four paused in their various positions. There was a long silence. Something was resting on Holly's foot. She leaned over and picked it up.  
  
"That's mine!" cried Harry as he lunged for his spectacles. Holly dodged out of his grasp and aimed the Neutrino at him. "Freeze or I'll shoot!"  
  
Even in the semi-darkness Harry could tell it was a gun. He froze. Holly and Root took the opportunity to shield. Ron took the opportunity to throw the Cloak over his and Harry's heads.  
  
"Now," said Holly's disembodied voice. "I suggest we all calm down and explain the situation to each other."  
  
"I doubt they will," growled Root.  
  
"We are not enemies," objected Harry. "We don't want to harm you. I just want my glasses back."  
  
"Why are you here then, Mud Boy?"  
  
"Our friend was captured by the people in that room," explained Ron from under the Cloak. "We're trying to rescue her."  
  
Root let out his breath in a whistle. "I see." A long pause. "Well, we are in the same predicament. Captain, you can give him back his glasses, I think."  
  
Holly put the glasses on the floor. They were snatched away by an invisible hand. There was a sigh of relief from Spectacles, as Holly now addressed him in her mind.  
  
"D'you...d'you want to work with us then?" asked the voice of the other Mud Boy – Carrot-tops, Holly mentally christened him.  
  
"We can see about that," replied Root. "Although, from past experiences, Mud People like you tend to just get in the way of operations."  
  
"We don't want that," said Spectacles reasonably. "All we want is the safety of our friend. We won't try anything on you. Please do not hurt us."  
  
He did really sound sincere, thought Holly. "Commander?" she whispered. "They might know something, or at least be some help."  
  
Root considered it. Better to have allies than enemies. "Very well," he addressed the other party. "We shall work together, for the moment. But anything funny, and neither my officer nor I will hesitate to turn our weapons on you."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a sudden tremor of the Time Shuttle. He and Ron crashed into the nearest box. Root fell down for the second undignified time that day. In the Control Room opposite, all hell broke loose.  
  
_Control Room, Time Shuttle, halfway to nowhere_  
  
The Shuttle jerked once more, throwing Artemis and Hermione into the wall. Foaly slammed into the dashboard. The Brides leapt up, shrieking. "You, centaur!" screamed Verona. "What is happening?"  
  
Foaly did not answer. He could not. His mouth was jammed against the keyboard and one eye against the coordinate screen. At the moment, his eye was observing the coordinates fleeing across the screen in the worst haywire manner, throwing up absolutely irrational area and period combinations.  
  
Aleera heaved him up unceremoniously from the dashboard with one arm. "What is happening?"  
  
Foaly pointed at the flashing power meter on the screen. "The battery. It's running haywire, for some reason. The computer has lost command of the coordinates, which means that the next place this Shuttle ends up in won't be Transylvania, but – "  
  
The Time Shuttle stopped shuddering. Artemis staggered to his feet and jabbed the Open Door button. They rushed into the corridor as the doors slid open.  
  
"– the middle of nowhere," finished Foaly weakly.  
  
No one else said anything. What was there to say?  
  
The landscape outside was a vast swamp. An endless fen, dotted with innumerable pools covered in sickly green scum and soft marshy ground. Thick mist hung over the place like a burial shroud. An eerie silence descended on the Time Shuttle, along with a fetid smell.  
  
"Where...is this?" asked Aleera faintly after several minutes of silence.  
  
"No idea," replied Foaly.  
  
With Marishka keeping an eye on the prisoners, the other two Brides and Imhotep ventured out into this new world. Imhotep's foot immediately sank into a marshy spot and emerged muddy and foul. "Ankheru!" swore Imhotep. The words rose into the air and disappeared amongst the mist.  
  
"What's that?" breathed Verona. "That light?"  
  
Around the Time Shuttle, a ring of ghostly lights flickered up, waving, entwining like candle-flames with the mist, beckoning them. All three were impervious to magic of other forms, however. Imhotep merely glared at the swirling phantom-lights and turned back to where the prisoners stood in the door of the Shuttle.  
  
"Centaur. Think of a way to get back to Castle Dracula. Or else."  
  
Foaly gulped. "Not easy. We need a new battery, or at least some source of power."  
  
Aleera was not well-versed in the studies of science, but she suddenly had a brainwave. "Lightning!"  
  
"Yes," added Verona, "lightning, like the Master's invention. We shall set up a lightning conductor, and Lord Imhotep can bring on a storm. The three of you, start now. That's what you're here for."  
  
Artemis frowned at the Bride. "We _could_," he began, "but we lack tools, and even more importantly, materials. How are we going to find the materials required for a basic lightning rod in this marsh?"  
  
Aleera morphed swiftly, spreading her wings and soaring up above the mists. "Look," she observed, pointing in the distance they could not see. "A village. Surely they must have what we need."  
  
Verona joined Aleera. "Let us go see," she said. "Marishka, dear," she called down, "and Lord Imhotep, would you please stay to guard the prisoners? We'll be back in no time." And in a few swift flaps of their wings, both Brides had vanished into the cloudy sky.  
  
Foaly sighed. "Doesn't look good," he pointed out to no one in particular as Imhotep shepherded them back inside.

* * *

Holly zoomed out from her Optix lens vision. "It's a swamp, Commander," she whispered into the helmet mike, rising ever so slightly above the doorway as Imhotep's bald head passed inches below her hovering feet.  
  
"A swamp? What swamp?"  
"No idea. Come out and see for yourself, if you wish."  
  
Root left the safety of the alcove, his wings whirring as he flew towards the doorway, dodging Marishka's shoulder. "Frond. Where the hell are we?"  
  
Harry and Ron decided that it was time they saw it for themselves. Creeping under the shelter of the Invisibility Cloak, they emerged from the alcove and crept towards the opening. Imhotep had already gone into the Control Room, but Marishka was still in the corridor, steering Artemis and Hermione with unyielding hands, so the two invisible wizards were very careful.  
  
Not too careful, though.  
  
Again, it was the Invisibility Cloak that betrayed them. Just as they passed Marishka, Artemis stepped onto a stray corner of the Cloak. And tripped.  
  
Harry was forced to duck with the Cloak as it was pulled to the floor, in order to stay hidden. His ankle protested with a twinge. Marishka was turning, and he and Ron needed to get away fast......  
  
That was when he realised that they had discovered Ron.  
  
Marishka had Ron by the collar in an iron grip. Ron was kicking and struggling, clawing at her arm, while Hermione screamed and screamed until Imhotep, who had been watching with an amused expression on his face, reached out and clapped his hand over her mouth. Hermione bit it. Imhotep stopped being amused. He shoved Hermione into the control room and strode over to the suspended Ron. "What shall we do with him?"  
  
Marishka had fangs extended and at the ready. "How about I bite him?" she asked ominously.  
  
"_Ron_!" came a scream from inside the control room.  
  
Imhotep looked at the fangs with distate. "Surely not now," he said. "We shall drop him in the swamp; I should like to see what happens."  
  
Harry attempted struggling to his feet. He had to save Ron. Clutching to the wall, he staggered up, but his treacherous ankle turned beneath him and he collapsed with a gasp of pain which went unheard in the general tumult.  
  
Marishka decided to go with Imhotep's idea. She was also interested in the dangers of the swamp. "Very well." Dragging Ron behind her, she made for the door, spreading her wings.  
  
Harry tried to get up again. Holly by now had inferred what he was doing, despite his invisibility. In a burst of speed she plunged next to him and forced him back down. "Down!" she hissed. "You'll only get yourself captured too!"  
  
Harry ignored her and tried to go after his friend. Holly repeated her orders, this time with the _mesmer_. "_Down. Get in the alcove. Lie low_."  
  
She felt him relax under her grip and released him. Firing up her wings, she soared up and out of the door, after the Bride and Ron.  
  
Ahead of her, Marishka swooped through the mists, now darting round the scraggly rocks, now skimming low among the scummy pools, dangling her thrashing prisoner tantalisingly above them. Finally she selected one that looked particularly deep. She hovered over it, her cruel smile of anticipation stretching her hideous face – and released him.  
  
Ron fell into the pool with a splash. Everything seemed to go dark about him, accompanied by a sudden muffling silence. Tiny pinpoints of candlelight appeared below him in the depths, flickering eerily. Ghostly faces materialised amongst the candles, grinning with their wraithlike mouths. Pale ethereal hands reached out, brushing his fingers, grasping his wrists, pulling him down, down, down......  
  
Holly surveyed the pool in disgust. Green scum. But still, the Mud Boy's life was at stake. She checked Marishka had disappeared, and plunged into the darkness of the stagnant water.  
  
She blinked. Were those _ghosts_ that she was seeing? But no matter. They had the boy, and soon they would be after her too. Grabbing the Mud Boy by the back of his robes, she pushed the throttle to full and yanking him with her, she shot out of the pool and into the air above.  
  
In her hands, Ron spluttered, gulping deep breaths of the marshy air. Holly laid him on a nearby rock to recover. He didn't say anything, too busy concentrating on just filling his lungs. Eventually, he rose onto one elbow with great effort.  
  
"Thanks," he panted. "I never thought I'd ever breathe again." He paused for a while, screwing up his forehead in thought. "I don't even know your name, you know."  
  
Holly realised he was right. "Holly Short."  
  
"Holly. Well, thanks for saving my life, Holly."  
  
Holly shrugged it off. Rifling through her LEP kit, which had survived the drenching, she yanked out a Moonbelt. "Here. Clip yourself on."  
  
Ron took the Moonbelt, staring in confusion. "What?"  
  
"Just get it on. I doubt we'll be welcome back at the Shuttle now, so I suggest we find somewhere else to kip out." She looked up at Ron, who had just managed to figure out how to attach himself. Holly hooked herself on too and fired up her wings. "Now, up we go."  
  
Soaring above the mists, Holly used her Optix lens to spy out the surroundings. "There. A road. At least it's better than marsh."  
  
Ron opened his mouth to comment and clamped it shut in shock as Holly accelerated. The mists were swept up in a tempest of vapour as they zoomed through the air at dizzying rates, faster than any broomstick Ron had ever ridden. The speed knocked the air out of his chest and left him dazed and breathless as they finally skidded to a stop in mid-air, above the road.  
  
It was a bare, stony road, stretching into the distance at either end, barren, dry. The marshes led away to their left, as far as the eye could see. Holly felt exposed, upon this strange path where no one could hide.  
  
Quite right. And she had forgotten to shield.  
  
"Who goes there?"  
  
Holly spun around, so fast that Ron's teeth chattered furiously. A man sat upon a horse, on that stony road. Why had she not seen him? Why hadn't she shielded? Holly cursed her carelessness.  
  
"D'Arvit!" she swore, drawing her Neutrino from its holster.  
  
The man raised his eyebrows. He was dark-haired, with a well-built physique. He was well-dressed, and his horse a fine one, from what she knew of horses, and an aura of nobility and power surrounded him. His dark eyes said many things, and hid many more, old and yet young.  
  
"You speak a outlandish language, stranger in this land," he spoke calmly. "Who may you be?" He levelled his steady gaze at them. "The youth you hold, he too is not of this realm. Are you a hobbit, little maid? Or are you," he eyed the wings, "something far more mysterious?"  
  
Holly noted where his gaze was directed and lowered the two of them to the ground. Sliding her visor up, she glared back at the Mud Man, sizing him up as a possible opponent. His main weapon appeared to be a long sword, hanging in a sheath at the side. Primitive. This must be the Middle Ages or something.  
  
She opened her mouth, preparing to mesmerize and mind-wipe him, but a sudden idea made her pause. He might prove to be useful, if only in pointing out where they were.  
  
"Who are you?" she asked.  
  
The human seemed to be considering the question before answering. "I am Aragorn son of Arathorn, Lord of Gondor. And who may you be?"  
  
Holly ignored that question. "Where is this place?"  
  
The man seemed slightly annoyed now. "The Dead Marshes, east of the fair lands of Ithilien. As a stranger, you should state your name and business first."  
  
"You don't want to know."  
"And why not, I pray thee tell?"  
  
Holly was getting exasperated. "What are you doing here?" she pressed again, this time adding a slight trace of the _mesmer_ to her voice.  
  
The man resisted her magic. He was strong-minded, this one. Eyes locked in battle, they sparred back and forth, until Aragorn relented. "I am travelling to Ithilien, where my long-time friends, the Lord Faramir and Lady Éowyn, dwell. It is long since we have last met."  
  
Ron suddenly remembered something. "Ithilien's the town in that direction, isn't it?"  
  
Aragorn nodded.  
  
"Then," continued Ron, realisation dawning, "it's where the vampires are headed for. Your friends and their town are in deep trouble, Mr. Aragorn."  
  
"What are vampires?"  
  
Holly rolled her eyes. "For someone who talks fancy, your vocabulary sure is limited. Vampires. Bloodsuckers, undead, fanged monsters of darkness. One bite and you become cursed like them. Add that to your terminology, Aragorn son of Arathorn."  
  
"It is as I said," said Aragorn with a resigned air. "You speak a tongue different from that which I am accustomed to. I understand you not."  
  
Holly lost her patience. "Never mind! They're in trouble, someone's got to get them out of it, we've still got to save the hostages. If that horse of yours can keep up, which I seriously doubt, let's check that village out. I have a feeling something bad's going to happen to it." And she was up and speeding out of sight, she and Ron silhouettes against the bleak sky, before Aragorn could even gather up his reins. 

Aragorn son of Arathorn stared after them. Then he nudged Roheryn into a gallop towards Ithilien. The stranger's words forebode ill, and if she was right, doom approached Ithilien with every passing heartbeat.  
  
**End of Chapter**  
  
_Next chapter coming_ ... **Lightning in the Marshes**  
  
In which the Brides do yet another kidnapping, the lightning conductor is set up and Éowyn daughter of Éomund proves her penchant for being a damsel- in-distress – not.


	7. Lightning in the Marshes

**Evil from the Past  
**  
Author's Note: Yes! Éowyn's in! She's my favourite character in Lord of the Rings. What more could you ask for in a heroine? And yes, she will have her full share of sword-swinging. Hopefully, unfairly much.  
  
Once more, I thank you all for your reviews, though some grow skeptical. Sorry that this took long. But it is nine pages, after all.  
  
**Lightning in the Marshes**  
  
_Ithilien, Middle-Earth, the Fourth Age of the Sun_  
  
Ithilien, that fair country of climbing woods and falling streams, grass- covered and flower-blessed, with days of light sun and nights of clear moon, a haven amongst the bleakness of the fallen lands of Mordor. The kingdom of Faramir son of Denethor and his lady Éowyn.  
  
Late afternoon, the Ithilien sun was softly warm, lying gentle fingers on the town nestled in the middle of the garden country. It was but a small town, but ever-growing amidst the beauty of that fair region. It expanded every day, under the vigilant care of its lord and lady. Soon, Ithilien would regain its glory as a city of Gondor.  
  
The Lady Éowyn fingered the edge of a broken blade as she walked beside Faramir on one of the many flower-bordered paths winding through the town of Ithilien. "They break easily," she said, a note of discontent in her voice. "The fifth blade that broke this week." She glanced up at Faramir. "How then shall we build the defence of this country, on blades that snap like this one did today morning?"  
  
Faramir smiled wanly. "It was an accident, my lady. And you were using great force."  
  
"The blades should be made to withstand such force, then," Éowyn argued back. "My little army is growing well; but I need good weapons to arm them with."  
  
For her own reasons, Éowyn had as much say in the defence of Ithilien as her husband. Faramir still commanded his elite force of the Rangers, but his wife handled the new recruits.  
  
"We will see about that," said Faramir. "Now, here we are at the blacksmith's. You can take the matter up with him when he has reforged that blade of yours."  
  
The sun dipped amongst the vales by the river Anduin to the west, colouring the horizon in faint blush shades. Éowyn stepped into the smithy as the blacksmith looked up from his work and immediately rushed forward to greet them. "My lady; my lord." He smiled politely at them. "What may I do for you today?"  
  
Faramir returned the smile. "The Lady Éowyn broke yet another blade today," he replied, with a slight grimace as Éowyn displayed the broken shards.  
  
"Again, my lady?" groaned the blacksmith.  
  
"The fault lies with the bladework," protested Éowyn. "Make them stronger, my good blacksmith. Then they will not break as if they were wrought of glass."  
  
As Éowyn argued with the blacksmith, Faramir found himself drawn to look outside the smithy door. To his uneasiness, he perceived two strangers standing in the shadows of a grove of tamarisk trees. They were gowned in white, with locks rippling past their pale shoulders, and they were staring straight at him. A slight chill descended upon the grove and all about it, dampening the pungent tamarisk fragrance. An icy breeze surged past where he stood at the door and blew out the forge fire.  
  
The blacksmith turned around, startled. "What – "  
  
Faramir heard a sharp intake of breath. He turned and saw Éowyn stunned, mouth open in shock.  
  
"My lord!" she screamed, but it was too late.  
  
The foremost of the two vampires flung Faramir aside with a flick of her wrist and they both charged into the smithy. Aleera grabbed the blacksmith and swung him around to face her. "Well? Are you the blacksmith here?"  
  
The terrified man nodded, unable to speak.  
  
"Good." Aleera flung her gaze about the room and settled it on a pile of tools and scrap metal. She scooped them up in her other arm and flashed an unsettling grin at Verona. "Let's go."  
  
Faramir staggered up from the floor. "Release him," he ordered, drawing his sword.  
  
Aleera tossed her head haughtily, fangs lengthening, but Verona stopped her, whispering something in her ear. Aleera considered, then grudgingly nodded. "Very well. As you wish."  
  
Verona lifted off the ground and launched herself at Faramir, who tried to block her with the sword. The blade sliced into her shoulder and Verona screamed, but she recovered swiftly. Knocking the sword out of his hand, she seized Faramir. "You're coming with us too," she murmured delightedly.  
  
Éowyn's fist connected with the back of the vampire's head. As Verona snarled in agony, the shieldmaiden scooped up her husband's sword and slashed Verona in the back, hewing with all her strength.  
  
Verona spun around in fury. One blow from her powerful arm was enough to send her attacker flying across the room. Éowyn smashed into a wall and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.  
  
"Éowyn!" cried Faramir, but Verona was soaring through the entrance and through the evening sky after Aleera, and his desperate shouts were soon lost among the gathering clouds.

* * *

There was a quick little westerly breeze in the atmosphere, and Holly launched into its currents. All her worries, the weight of this mission, even Ron attached to her belt, she forgot as the wind swept her up in its embrace and rushed her through the clear air. She could almost have laughed out loud.  
  
The landscape below changed from dead marsh to living green. Holly swooped in low beneath the mists and saw for the first time the dryad loveliness of Ithilien. Her breath caught in her throat. She slowed down, hovering amongst the groves and dells, inhaling deep breaths of the flower- scented air. Her eyes devoured the sights in delight; the emerald-green grass tall and deep about the singing, murmuring streams and quiet, gently- rippling pools, with blossoms running wild through them, lilies pale amongst the vibrant irises and the vivd anemones, clustering about the moss- devoured stones, rose-brambles and the asphodel crowding the shadowed grove of olive trees. In her time, there was nowhere you could get this sort of scenery. They didn't make them like this. They had never made them like this.  
  
Holly could have stayed there forever, in Nature's fragrant wilderness amid the saxifrage and stonecrops. However, two winged shapes flying in the distance towards them shook her out of this trance. A chill crept through the woods of Ithilien and darkened the shady olive groves. Holly ducked under the cover of the trees as the Brides passed overhead with their struggling loads. When they had gone, she emerged swiftly and firing up her wings, shot off towards the lights of Ithilien before the setting sun.

* * *

_Time Shuttle, Dead Marshes, Fourth Age of the Sun_  
  
Artemis was meditating. Or meditating as best as he could, with Foaly tutting and discussing lightning conductors with himself on one side and Hermione still in hysterics over Ron on the other. Artemis was also calling up his memories of the fairy folk one by one and running through them, until he could remember them as he had been able to before the mindwipe. He was certainly not going to let them mindwipe him again. The loss would be too great a second time.  
  
He realised that he had missed his fairy friends all along. Holly and Mulch. Even Commander Root. They were the reason for the emptiness all that long, memory-less time. Artemis sighed inwardly. He doubted he should see them again, even if he got out of this mess. And he wanted to so badly.  
  
Artemis's train of thought was interrupted by the returning Brides hammering on the Shuttle door. Foaly reluctantly led them in.  
  
Aleera dumped the trembling blacksmith on the floor in front of Imhotep and Marishka. "This one's the blacksmith," she said. "Verona's is the Lord of Ithilien."  
  
"What did you get him for?" asked Marishka, examining the unconscious Faramir. "He's got a head wound."  
  
"He hit a rock face on the journey back," explained Verona innocently.  
  
"Hm." Marishka looked at the bleeding gash. "I haven't fed for so long. Couldn't we just..."  
  
Aleera twisted Marishka's elbow, making her drop the prisoner with a yelp. "Don't you dare," she hissed. "He's a hostage. One of high importance. We keep him until – until we get out of here."  
  
Marishka glared.  
  
Aleera ignored her. "You lot!" she called, gesturing at the three geniuses by the wall. "Get to work on that lightning conductor!"  
  
Foaly rolled his eyes. "Yes, ma'am." He trotted over to the pile of tools, looked over them, finally selecting a few and exiting the shuttle. Artemis and Hermione filed out after him, Hermione casting a compassionate glance at the injured Faramir. Aleera tossed the blacksmith after them. "And be quick about it!" she yelled after them.

* * *

_Ithilien, Middle-Earth, Fourth Age of the Sun_  
  
It took Aragorn much longer than Holly to reach the town of Ithilien, earthbound as he was. The sun had well nigh set by the time Roheryn pulled to a stop before the smithy. The red-haired boy was waiting by the door.  
  
"There's someone in there," he told the king. "A woman, blonde and dressed in white. Unconscious. The place is a mess. Holly says that the Brides were here."  
  
Éowyn, thought Aragorn, sliding out of the saddle. He raced up to the smithy and paused in the entrance.  
  
Holly was leaning over Éowyn, small hands placed on the woman's temples. But it was the stream of blue sparks flowing from her fingertips into Éowyn's skin that had caught his attention. If Holly noticed him, she gave no sign. But then she removed her hands, stopping the flow of magic and sitting back on the heels to watch her handiwork.  
  
"What are you?" breathed Aragorn.  
  
Holly glanced up at him for a moment, but then she leapt up, startled. Éowyn shot upright suddenly, eyes wide in fear. "Faramir!" she screamed.  
  
Aragorn rushed to her side. "Éowyn!" he said urgently. "Calm down, Éowyn. It's me. Aragorn."  
  
Éowyn looked at him, her breath coming in short gasps. "My liege," she spoke, voice underlined with fear. "They took Faramir. Two monsters. I tried to – to save him, but one of them struck me. I know not what – "  
  
"They were vampires," said Holly unexpectedly from Éowyn's other side. "And I think I know why they want your husband; either they need to use him for the lightning conductor, or as a hostage. Or maybe they're just hungry."  
  
Éowyn was looking at Holly quizzically. "She brought you round," Aragorn hurriedly explained. "She is on our side – I think. Pardon, lady, but I do not know your name."  
  
"Captain Holly Short."  
  
A strange name, thought Aragorn, but never mind. Holly was speaking again.  
  
"Now," she said, "if you want to save your Faramir, you had better hurry. Frond knows what they could be doing now."  
  
"Building the lightning conductor?" suggested Ron from the door.  
  
"Likely, but we don't know for sure." Holly slid up her visor, handing Ron the Moonbelt. "I know the way. Follow, if you're fast enough."  
  
Éowyn scrambled to her feet. "The stables are not far," she retorted. "The horses of the Rohirrim are the swiftest beings that have ever lived upon this earth."  
  
Holly put on the Moonbelt and fired up her wings. "That's what you think."

* * *

_The Dead Marshes, Middle-Earth, Fourth Age of the Sun_  
  
One of the worst places in the world to build a lightning conductor had to be a marsh. Artemis was very sure of that.  
  
His foot sank into the sixteenth marshy spot that day and he stumbled, spilling metal rods into the mud. Groaning inwardly, he gathered them up, back aching. His clothes were absolutely ruined, and the less said about his shoes, the better.  
  
"Hurry up," called Foaly from the solid spot he had chosen to set the conductor up. The centaur had already created the base, and they were now working on the rods. "The faster we get this done, the sooner we get out of here."  
  
"Indeed?" asked the blacksmith apprehensively as he fixed up the rods as Foaly had instructed.  
  
"Well, I hope so."  
  
They heard more squelching noises behind them and turned to see Imhotep wading distastefully towards them, dragging Faramir. "Well, there's your blacksmith," he pointed out haughtily. "Join them if you like, and make yourself useful. You might as well be a working hostage." He turned on his heel and waded back to the Shuttle in as dignified a way as possible.  
  
Hermione tramped over to Faramir with her armful of rods. "Is your head okay?" she asked concernedly.  
  
Faramir stared around him dazedly. "If you mean to ask how it is, then I would say it feels better. How can I help?"  
  
Hermione still wasn't convinced. She produced a large handkerchief from the sleeve of her robes and made a makeshift bandage for Faramir. Then they waded back to the group.  
  
"Well, I don't suppose you could handle much," said Foaly, scrutinizing his wound. "Just help to hold up the rods while I nail them, if you don't mind."  
  
When they had fixed the lightning rods, they started on the wires. That meant more wading. Artemis, Hermione and the blacksmith struggled back and forth, laying out thin metal strips: the closest thing they had to wires. Hermione was fervently missing her wand, which Imhotep had confiscated, and which would have made work much easier. Foaly connected the last strip to the battery source. "There." He turned and yelled at the Shuttle entrance. "Hey! It's done!"  
  
Imhotep and Verona appeared in the doorway. "At last," purred Verona, flashing her demonic smile.

* * *

Holly saw Imhotep marshalling the prisoners into the Shuttle. She doubled back into the mist, where Éowyn and Aragorn were picking their way through the fen (they had left the horses by the road, and trusted they could find their own way back to Ithilien). "Hurry up, will you?" she hissed. "They'll be going anytime soon. You guys are taking forever."  
  
Neither of the Mud People replied; most likely they hadn't understood the latter part of her statement. She looked down to check on Ron and saw him staring at the sky wide-eyed. "Holly? I think it's going to rain."  
  
Holly looked up to receive the first plops of rain on her visor. Overhead, the uneasy sky above the Dead Marshes suddenly transformed into a rolling black maelstrom, where the wraith clouds were tossed like phantom galleons upon wave after wave of storm. The wind picked up and hurled the mist about their ears. Holly was buffeted backwards, as if struck by a mighty hand, and crashed into Aragorn and Éowyn.  
  
"It's Imhotep!" cried Ron as they struggled up against the brutal tempest. Indeed, Imhotep was standing in the doorway of the Shuttle, arms raised to commandeer the heavens. Even as they watched, he brought both arms down, a diabolical expression upon his face. Lightning split the storm-washed sky in two, followed by a sickening crack of thunder. The bolt of lightning hurtled down to the marshes in a blinding pillar of light – missing the conductor by only inches.  
  
"We have seconds," Holly pointed out, "before the Shuttle gets recharged. Strategy, anyone?"  
  
"No," replied Éowyn, her face set, knuckles white as she gripped her sword hilt. "We attack as fast as possible, gain entry to the machine and kill anyone who gets in the way. That should do."  
  
Holly nodded, flicking up the settings on her Neutrino. Despite her inborn prejudice against Mud People, she was beginning to have a grudging admiration for Éowyn. Not your typical Middle Age damsel-in-distress. This woman had guts.  
  
Another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky, striking the marshes. The lightning conductor trembled from the electrical charge in the air. They had no time to lose. "Now!" yelled Holly, shielding and opening the throttle on her wings. Ron pulled out his wand as they were lifted into the air. Aragorn and Éowyn charged after them, swords raised, battling the whistling gales as they attacked the Shuttle.  
  
Imhotep brought down the third lightning stroke just as Aragorn smashed him into the wall. This time, his aim was true. The lightning conductor leapt into life, electricity running down the conductors and wires, fizzling towards the battery. In the Control Room, the dashboard returned to working order, lights flickering on and off. Foaly opened his mouth to make a comment about that, when Imhotep fell through the door.  
  
Éowyn grabbed the blacksmith by the arm. "Leave and run as far as you can," she told him, pushing him out of the door. Then, hoisting her sword up, she rushed in after Aragorn, but stopped dead. Imhotep had recovered swiftly. He now had Faramir with a curved sword-blade at his throat. The Egyptian's eyes darted from opponent to opponent, shining with triumph. Aragorn and Éowyn froze. Their eyes locked with Faramir's across the room. A desperate stalemate.  
  
"I knew he would come in handy," whispered Verona to Aleera, delighted.  
  
That was when Captain Holly Short unshielded to fire.  
  
The laser beam caught Imhotep on the hand. Imhotep yelped, dropping his sword and releasing Faramir, who attempted to make a run for it, but was caught by a furious Imhotep. Faramir wrenched himself free and fell over the dashboard.  
  
This action had serious implications. In his fall, Faramir had unintentionally hit two important buttons. His left hand had landed on the Open/Close door button. The rescuers heard in dismay the door hissing shut. The second button was the Revert Button. This button automatically entered the coordinates that had last been given: in this case, namely Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century.  
  
There was no time to waste, however. Éowyn swung her blade at Imhotep, who blocked it with his own, which he had managed to grab in time. The two entered into rapid swordplay, while Aragorn desperately held off Verona. Marishka went for Holly, who spun her off target with a well-aimed blast. Ron ran over to Hermione and began to rip at her bonds in vain. Aleera grabbed him and swung him into the wall.  
  
Harry and Root decided they had done enough watching and joined in the fray. Harry shoved the computer chair into Aleera's back, knocking the Bride over. Root rushed to the aid of his officer, whacking the back of Marishka's head with his blaster's barrel. Faramir, for lack of a better weapon, grabbed a leftover metal bar and brought it down on Imhotep's bald crown. This gave Éowyn a chance to draw blood with her blade tip on their enemy's arm. Imhotep roared and thrust his sword at Éowyn. The shieldmaiden parried the blow and forced his blade to the side, while Faramir repeatedly hammered the Egyptian with the metal bar.  
  
All the while, the coordinates were running back to the 19th century.  
  
The bleeping from the dashboard momentarily paused everyone. In the following silence, the Shuttle door slid open. And neither the rescuers or the prisoners liked what they saw outside very much.  
  
"D'Arvit," swore Root in disbelief.  
  
Imhotep picked himself off the floor, with his familiar sinister smile despite his wounds. "Welcome to Transylvania," he said, in malicious delight.

**End of Chapter**  
  
_Next chapter coming... _**Welcome to Transylvania**  
  
In which they meet a warm reception, Captain Jack Sparrow gets things explosive and something extremely nasty happens to Holly.


	8. Welcome to Transylvania

**Evil from the Past**  
  
Author's Note: I have 29 reviews! Why not 30? Oh, but we must be content with what we have. Really? But I should like more reviews. Anyway.  
  
Acknowledgements: I shall thank all my old reviewers, plus my new ones, namely KittyInStilettos, Sapphire Dragon, Flubberz, my old friend Codefun (hello, my naughty one), my classmate Zeggy and my Ainu Vanimelda. Angel dear, I shall write very soon, but I kept forgetting last week and they had performance tasks for RS. So very sorry.  
  
Now, three things to say. Brace yourself for the last blast of crossovering next chapter (sorry, my skeptic reviewers). Join the French Revolution and die a martyr of France (especially you, Manveri). And read.  
  
**Welcome to Transylvania**  
  
_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century  
_  
The Time Shuttle had landed on the edge of a forest clearing. But it wasn't the Transylvanian scenery that had captivated the rescuers. More accurately, it was the massive throng of people awaiting them before it. All of which were vampires.  
  
"D'Arvit," said Root again, because he couldn't think of anything better.  
  
While everyone else was frozen in horror, Imhotep took the chance to take hold of Foaly's neck and tow him out of the Shuttle. The Brides, catching his drift, seized Artemis and Hermione and followed. "Help!" yelled Foaly. "Hello? We're being dragged off, if you haven't noticed."  
  
Holly shook herself out of her trauma and sped off after the escaping party. She dropped down in front of Imhotep and held his frigid gaze with her fiery one. "_Let him go now_," she ordered in the _mesmer_. "_Release the centaur_."  
  
Imhotep brushed away the command like an invisible fly, unwavering behind the screen of his own dark magic. "I think not."  
  
What happened next happened very fast. No one even had time to draw breath. Captain Short gave a small gasp and sank back to earth. Artemis's brain was adamantly refusing to believe his eyes, refusing to believe that Imhotep's sword blade was in Holly's abdomen and protruding through her back, and that fresh red blood was leaking out from around the wound. It couldn't be. Not Holly. Not the invincible Captain Holly Short.  
  
"Holly..." gasped Foaly. Hermione let out a soft moan.  
  
Root had absolutely no qualms about breaking the speechless-in-shock rule. "HOLLY!"  
  
Imhotep tugged Foaly away. "Too late for her," he added callously. Aleera looked back longingly at the blood, then turned away too, yanking Hermione off her feet. "Enjoy yourselves," she called to the horde of undead as their subjects made way for them to pass through. The crowd closed behind them, inching forward.  
  
Root knelt by his fallen officer. Holly's eyes fluttered open. "Commander... the prisoners?" She was struggling with the effort; each breath was a dreadful death-rattle. "Save them...I couldn't...you must..."  
  
"Shut up, Holly!" snapped the commander, who was too worried to provide comfort. "I'm trying to save you, for Frond's sake!" He gave the wound a quick inspection. It was fatal.  
  
Holly's breathing slowed and ground to a stop. D'Arvit, thought Root, praying that he had enough magic left in him. Trying to calm his frenzied breathing, he shut his eyes, positioned his hands and whispered: "_Heal_."  
  
The magic scurried down his fingers and bloomed into blue fire over Holly's wound. Root forced it to go faster, faster. They hadn't got enough time.  
  
Aragorn glanced at the advancing crowd, then at Holly. There was nothing they could do to help with the healing, but they could give Root some precious minutes. In unspoken agreement, he, Éowyn and Faramir launched themselves forward, striking the first row of vampires. The vampires fought back tooth and nail and fangs, the last which were extended and ravenous for mortal blood. One grabbed Éowyn and leaned in for a bite. Behind him, Faramir bashed his head in as Éowyn slashed off his arm in disgust. The arm fell to the ground and wriggled about. She kicked it away in revulsion and commenced hacking the next one to pieces as the corpse of the first ambled around, clawed arms outstretched, its head a mess of bloody yellowed flesh on its neck. It was a losing battle, but all three fought on grimly.  
  
Harry pulled out his wand. So did Ron. After all, Holly had saved his life. "_Impedimenta_!" they yelled, aiming randomly into the mob. A group of vampires collapsed, immobilized for the moment. Harry wasted no time in looking after them. "_Reducto_!" More vampires were blasted.  
  
Root's magic was ebbing, but through his half-closed eyelids, he thought he saw the flow of blood stemming. With barely enough left, he pulled his hands away. "Get ready to make a run for it," he grunted, not taking his eyes off Holly. Harry spared a glance, and nodded.  
  
Holly's chest began to rise and fall at an accelerated rate. Shock waves rippled her slight frame. In her belly, the wound began to seal itself.  
  
Root wasted no time. He strapped his own Moonbelt around his waist, then clipped his captain on. "We better move!" he yelled, rising into the air.  
  
Harry picked his Cloak and Firebolt off the Shuttle floor, beckoning to Ron. "What about you?" he shouted to the other three.  
  
"Never mind us," replied Aragorn. "Just go. _Go_!" They extricated themselves from the mass of vampires and began to run for the forest. Root rose into the air, Holly dangling beneath him, and trailed the three Mud People as they ran. The Firebolt followed, and then disappeared underneath the Cloak.  
  
It was a desperate race. Aragorn could hear the crunching sound of undead feet on the forest floor, their dry, rattling breathing around them. They were gaining unbelievably fast. Éowyn glanced back as one reached out clutching fingers towards her, winced and sawed them off.  
  
"There's a village further up!" yelled Root from overhead. "We might find shelter there!"  
  
Aragorn did not answer, saving his breath for running. If they made it, it would be a miracle.

* * *

_Vaseria, Transylvania, 19th century_  
  
They made a dismal sight, the silent group in the shadows of Valerious Manor, upon the freshly-turned earth of its garden. The crew of the Black Pearl was helping to dig Velkan's grave, Captain Jack Sparrow in the lead. After all, he had been the one to kill Velkan. Van Helsing was also digging, although every blow of the shovel made agony tear through his chest.  
  
Anna stood by Velkan's body, which was on a crude last-minute-constructed bier. She wiped the dirt and blood off his face, which was already growing cold. "Goodbye, Velkan." Her tears had dried, and she was filled instead with a freezing, icy anger. She would avenge him, if it was the last thing she did.  
  
They lowered Velkan into the shallow grave. Anna threw the first handful of earth onto him, never taking her eyes off his beloved face as it disappeared beneath the brown earth. When the grave was covered, she walked off and sat down in a clump of tall grass, head cradled in her arms. No one went after her, not even Van Helsing.  
  
The full moon, resplendent in selenite magnificence, bathed the garden and the grave in a pale glow. Van Helsing found himself strangely drawn to the moonlight. His senses had also been magnified tremendously. He could hear the night wind among the restless clouds, and the people around him breathing. Dead leaves crunched; feet pounded earth. Van Helsing spun around and breathed in. Among the other smells, a stench rose upon the night air. Undead flesh.  
  
Anamaria sucked in her breath and spat a word that was Carribean, vehement and too vulgar to be reproduced.  
  
The vampire horde spilled out from among the trees like a stream of black ants. Before them sprinted three figures. Van Helsing saw that they would be overwhelmed any moment now.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow leapt into action. "Cannons!" he bellowed. The crew hurried to ready a portable cannon. Gibbs jammed a cannonball into the barrel as the captain struck a match on the heel of his boot and applied it to the fuse. The rest scurried from the cannon's vicinity.  
  
Anna waved desperately to get the pursued trio's attention. "Get down!" she screamed.  
  
The two men did not take the hint, but the woman did. Eyes widening in shock, she yanked both her companions down onto the ground as a cannonball whizzed over their heads. Behind them, a large explosion sent undead flesh spurting into the sky. Harry swerved the Firebolt sharply to avoid a bloody chunk.  
  
"Look out!" yelled Ron.  
  
They ducked just as another cannonball flew at them, for all the world like a large explosive Bludger. It missed them by a few feet and blew up another lot of vampires. The stench was overpowering. Gasping for fresh air, the three on the ground stumbled across the last stretch of ground and collapsed in the village of Vaseria.  
  
A few more cannonballs finished off the remaining vampires. The forest by now was a stinking putrid mess. Blood dripped off branches impaled with flesh. Harry averted his eyes from the sight and landed next to Aragorn, throwing off the Invisibility Cloak.  
  
Anna ran out of the garden gate and flipped Faramir off the ground. "Why were so many of them after you? Who are you, anyway?"  
  
Faramir could not speak, being occupied by the effort taken to regain his breath. Harry answered for him. "We were trying to rescue friends who had been captured by the vampires. We came from the future in a time machine and the vampires – well –attacked us."  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow leaned over the hedge. "The _future_? Who are you trying to kid, mate?"  
  
"We can do the explaining later," grunted Root, landing beside Harry. He laid the prostrate Holly out on the ground. "We've got more important business to attend to here."

* * *

They set up camp in the main hall of Valerious Manor: the only place large enough to hold all them rabble. Holly was still unconscious, but her condition was stabilized. Root was monitoring her and keeping an eye – or ear – on the discussion.  
  
"The vampire babies," said Anna. "It must be. Only lightning and human energy can bring them to life. Why else would he need a machine like that?"  
  
"It doesn't matter what it's for," exclaimed Ron. "We want Hermione back. That's all."  
  
"No one can get to the castle."  
"No one knows where it is."  
"Then we'll find it."  
"You don't know. My father spent years gazing at that picture." Anna pointed. "It's the only clue we have on where Dracula's castle is – and no one has been able to find out how it works."  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow strolled up to the painting and ran a finger down the frame. "Welded. No hope there." He began examining the painting.  
  
A commotion broke out on the other side of the hall. Holly had regained consciousness.  
  
"Hold still, Captain," barked Root as he shoved a spoon of brandy towards Holly's mouth. Holly instinctively drew back. "That's an order."  
  
"Only brandy," snapped Anamaria. "Whatcha afraid of?"  
  
Holly eventually swallowed the brandy. "Sit still," ordered Root. "No sudden movements. You need to heal."  
  
"I need the Ritual," croaked Holly. It was the loudest her voice could go.  
  
"So do I." Root turned around, addressing Anna. "Is there an oak tree in your garden?"  
  
Anna thought. "I think so. Beside the little stream. Mind the vampires," she called after the two elves as they made for the door. Holly swayed as she stepped out and had to cling onto the doorpost for a moment to regain her breath.  
  
Faramir tested out his new sword, which was borrowed from Anna's armoury, by swinging it and barely missing Van Helsing's hat. "And you say we need to prevent this machine from bringing the – vampire – babies to life. Because they will feed upon mankind. Is that so?"  
  
"You know nothing about vampires?" said Van Helsing incredulously. "Nothing about their bloodsucking habits, their undead needs, their curse and malady? Yes, they will feed upon mankind, and when they are brought to life there is no one who can stop them. That answer your question?"  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow discovered an inscription at a corner of the painting. "Wait." He ran a finger along the words. "It's in Latin. Hey. I can read Latin!"  
  
"Indeed," drawled Van Helsing in a bored voice. "I had thought that you weren't even literate."  
  
The crew of the Black Pearl gave Van Helsing several dirty glares. Their captain appeared not to have noticed the comment. "Let's see. _Deum lacessat ac inuam_...Drat. There's a bit missing."  
  
Van Helsing looked up, suddenly interested. Reaching beneath his cloak, he pulled out a piece of painted cloth. "I was given this at the beginning of my mission." He handed it to Jack. "Finish it."  
  
The piece fitted perfectly into the hole in the map. Captain Jack Sparrow clapped his hands. "Aha! _Deum lacessat ac inaum imbeat aperiri_!"  
  
"In the name of God," translated Van Helsing, "open this door."  
  
"Bloody hell," whispered Ron.  
  
The painting seemed to melt into a crystalline frost, which shimmered icily and slowly settled into a glassy surface.  
  
Root and Holly returned from the Ritual and stopped in astonishment. "What's that...mirror...doing there?" Holly wanted to know.  
  
"Dracula has no reflection in a mirror," spoke Anna.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow cocked his head, adjusted his hat slightly and admired himself in the mirror. He reached out and stuck his hand into – and through – the looking glass.  
  
"Hm," muttered Jack, eyeing his wrist with the hand that had gone somewhere else. "_In_-teresting."  
  
"How'd you do that?" breathed Anna.  
  
"Yes, pray tell," put in Aragorn.  
  
Holly trotted up and stuck her hand in too. She inhaled sharply, and not merely from the shock. "It's _cold_!" She drew her hand back swiftly. Snowflakes from another part of the world tumbled off her frozen fingers and drifted to the floor of the manor, where they melted. Holly stared at the little puddles, at her fingers, and at the mirror. Then she took a deep breath and stepped in.  
  
Éowyn gasped. Holly had entirely disappeared.  
  
"D'Arvit!" swore Root. "That girl will be the death of me!" He rushed up and went through as well. Captain Jack Sparrow raised his eyebrows, tipped his hat to his crew and stepped in. "Mind you bring the cannons, mates," were his last words as he disappeared into the icy glass.  
  
Van Helsing looked sidelong at Anna, and they both entered it simultaneously. Aragorn did not hesitate. He followed them, sword drawn and at the ready. Éowyn gave Faramir a small smile, and the couple stepped in after their king.  
  
With Gibbs in the lead, the Black Pearl crew dragged the portable cannon up to the mirror and heaved it through. Anamaria went last, carrying an armful of cannon balls. Harry and Ron were left in the empty hall.  
  
Harry turned to Ron and shrugged. "For Hermione," he said, and they followed the rest – into the mirror.  
  
**End of Chapter**  
  
_Next chapter coming_...**The Return to Egypt**  
  
In which Imhotep returns to his homeland, digs up an old consort and does a bit of kidnapping of his own. 


	9. The Return to Egypt

**Evil from the Past**

Author's Note:

I do realise this is very late. You must forgive me. First I was hit by a barrage of tests. Then by several project projectiles. (A lame pun, it turns out.) Lastly, in the space of a week I was stricken by several diseases of impossible variety, simultaneously. It has been a evil week.

I shall try to hurry, so as not to upset what I might tentatively call my fan club. This chapter would never have been written, if not for the constant pressure of Manveri meleth-nin every time I visit her desk, and of course, the encouragement of my wonderful parents, who are my foremost critics in this fanfic. How many parents read and discuss their children's fanfics, anyway? They are truly marvellous.

Apart from the slight upset of some rather scathing, callous, and grammatically atrocious flames I received, I am pleased with my 40 reviews. Besides my old reviewers, I must thank A Fan, whoever you may be, and trivial queen. To the latter, I'm very sorry, but frankly my Quenya isn't so great. I only understand the last word, which doesn't really help. Well.

**The Return to Egypt**

_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century_

Imhotep dangled the chain from his fingers, so that the object hung on it swung slowly before his eyes. An ankh. The ancient symbol of life, of power, of magic. Cast in gold here, with hieroglyphics inscribed on its stem. This was no ordinary ankh.

"You do know you came from the future, don't you?" Count Dracula was pacing the marble floor before Imhotep's seat. He paused for a moment and glanced at Imhotep, who nodded. "It was the Year of the Scorpion when O'Connell killed me," said the Egyptian. "A century before this day. You used this ankh, this Ankh of Time, to bring me back?"

"Oh no, not I. A contact, rather. An _Egyptian_ contact." Dracula sat down opposite Imhotep. "He couldn't find me a mummy – not one from this time, no. But he had a little miracle object, he said. An amulet of sorts, that could bring back objects from things from the past and future. He'd made a fortune in tomb robbing with it." Dracula looked into his accomplice's black eyes. "At my request, he used it to bring back _you_. I was so interested I – hem, convinced – him to give it to me."

Imhotep fingered the Ankh of Time. "That is not all the Ankh can do. It does not surprise me he could not use it fully – few are the Ankhs like these, and few also are the ones who can use them. And among these are the High Priests of the Pharaohs."

Dracula laughed. "And you are – were a High Priest, I believe."

Imhotep nodded. "With it, I can go anywhere in Egypt I want – and anytime. I can bring back artifacts – and bodies." He paused to give the next sentence full effect. "I can bring _Her_ back."

It did not have the desired effect on the count. Dracula yawned slightly and examined his pale fingers. "Whatever for? If I remember, she betrayed you."

Imhotep was quite offended. "It was _Meela_ who betrayed me, not Anck-su-namun. Meela, her reincarnation. Anck-su-namun would never have forsaken me at the abyss of Ahm Shere."

Dracula shrugged. "Whatever you wish. Bring back your darling's corpse, by all means. You can try reviving her with the machine once our prisoners have finished with it. You don't want the Time Shuttle, do you? I need the centaur here."

Imhotep shook his head. "That is what the Ankh is for." He stood up, and walked to the centre of the room. "Goodbye, my friend." Clenching his fist around the Ankh, he muttered a few Words of Power. A golden aura emanated from the Ankh. It brightened slowly, filling the council room. Dracula watched, fascinated. The light went brilliantly glaring, then suddenly vanished – and Imhotep with it.

Dracula settled back into his chair. Personally, he couldn't see why Imhotep would go to such trouble for a woman. He himself had three brides, but he did not love them – not at all. They were entertaining, and useful, but not for loving. He could not love. His heart had turned to stone four hundred years ago.

* * *

_Hamunaptra, Egypt, 20th century_

Burning sand beneath his feet, burning sun beating upon his head. Dusty desert air filled his nostrils. He was home.

He opened his eyes, and unclenched his hands. The Ankh lay there, glimmering softly. Around him the desert glittered in the inexorable heat. Blocks of fallen stone lay here and there; there were still some pillars left standing. The Ankh had brought him where he wanted: Hamunaptra.

He did not want the body of Meela – it was she who had betrayed him – so he had not gone to Ahm Shere. Rather, he was searching where Anck-su-namun had first been buried.

He cast around, and finally saw it: the entrance to a passage that led underground. He entered it, and walked down the stone steps briskly. He knew she was down there.

* * *

_Cliffs of Kamyndos, Egypt, 20th century_

Again she was in the dark corridor. She cast her torch about her, highlighting hieroglyphics carved into the ancient stone walls with its flame. She began walking. She turned a corner, and into another passage. She heard a high-pitched shrilling behind her, and began to run.

There was movement over her head. Bats. Muffling a scream, she ducked as they charged her. They missed her, but one of them rammed into her torch handle. The torch went skidding into a wall and its flame went out, leaving her lost in the darkness of the tomb.

She ran, but now there was a great fear in her step. She could hear slow muffled wingbeats behind her, ominously, and things flittered in the shadows that she could barely catch glimpses of. She slammed into a wall in the dark, and panicking, flung her arms about. The passage swung to the left, and she followed it, dark curls flying, hands groping and brushing along the tomb walls. She turned another corner, and skidded to a stop.

There was an unearthly light before her. In the midst of this eerie glow, there was a man silhouetted with his back to her. He was carrying something in his arms; a body, most likely, and a woman's, judging from the fall of straight black hair over one of his muscled arms. He also clutched a sack, which jangled and clanked as he turned to face her. He raised his face, and the bluish glow surrounded him. She caught her breath in recognition – and screamed.

Evelyn O'Connell awoke, her curls drenched in sweat, her fists clenched so hard her fingernails were drawing tracks in her palms, and screaming.

"Oh, Evy." Rick rolled over to face her. "What the hell is it now?"

Her breathing calmed; she unclenched her hands, breathing in the dusty Egyptian night air, eyes scanning her surroundings of the cliffs of Kamyndos. "The nightmare. Imhotep is back, Rick. I saw it."

Her husband laughed. "Imhotep back? It's just a dream, Evy."

Evelyn shook her head. "Remember the last time I had dreams like this? And they turned out to be more than just nightmares?"

Rick scrambled up, twisting his sleeping bag. "But he's dead now. We've killed him twice already. Seriously, how many times can a guy die?" He patted her on the shoulder. "Go back to sleep, Evy. The dig's tomorrow; you'll want to be feeling refreshed in the morning. You've been looking forward to exploring Kamyndos the whole month, haven't you?"

Evelyn lay back, wriggling into a comfortable position in her sleeping bag. "I suppose you're right." And he must be, she thought. We killed Imhotep. We sent him back to Hell. But the germ of the nightmare stuck in her mind, and refused to be dislodged.

* * *

_Hamunaptra, Egypt, 20th century_

The blazing sun rose above the rugged cliffs as Imhotep staggered out of the catacomb of Hamunaptra, laden down by the weight of Anck-su-namun. He fought on through the searing heat and the sand, heading for the shelter of the cliffs. Little did he know he was being watched.

Upon a high dune, a group of men on horseback followed his progress from afar. Among them, it was clear who held leadership; the tall man whose horse stood ahead of the rest, in hood and cloak, though neither disguised his proud stature. Dual scimitars hung in their elaborately inscribed sheaths at his waist. Beneath the hood, his face was marked with blue tattooes – tattooes that indicated the rank of Medjai Lord.

Ardeth Bay's dark, hawk-like eyes focused on Imhotep's path to the cliff. "So. He has returned."

"Are you sure, my lord?" ventured one of the other Medjai.

Ardeth's eyes narrowed. "I fought him twice. His face of evil is engraved upon my mind. Yes, I am sure." He cast a last glance at his old enemy, then tugged at the reins of his horse, turning away and riding down the sand dune. The others followed his example. In a matter of moments, not a trace was left of the Medjai's presence but the soft hoofprints of their horses in the scorched sand. The four men had vanished into the desert like a sirocco suddenly calmed.

* * *

_Cliffs of Kamyndos, Egypt, 20th century_

Imhotep was resting from the hot work in the scorching heat outside when he froze. He knew these cliffs – and the secret rock tunnels running through them – well enough to know that there were no inhabitants in these caves whatsoever. Yet he could hear voices coming from around the bend in the passage ahead of him. It must be archaeologists. Only those prying white men with their insatiable curiosity about a past which was not theirs would want to stay in these dark, narrow tunnels.

He checked that the corpse of Anck-su-namun was safe against the passage wall and then stealthily advanced to the corner. His walk was noiseless; only the faint metallic sound of his scimitar being drawn could be heard.

The archaeologists obviously did not hear him. Imhotep waited, blade at the ready, by the corner. He could hear snatches of their conversation. As he listened, a slow – and sinister – smile creased his lips. These were no ordinary archaeologists. All the better.

On the other side of the wall, one of the afore-mentioned archaeologists was attempting to navigate his way in the dark passage – by waving his torch about in hope of alighting upon the next opening.

"Stop it," snapped Evelyn as she barely ducked Rick's flaming torch, singeing her dark hair slightly. "It'll be my face next."

"Sorry," came the sarcastic reply. "Since you seem to know so much about these torches, why don't you give it a try?"

Evelyn opened her mouth to remark pithily to her husband, when she was interrupted by a chirpy voice from somewhere below her neckline.

"Mom? C'n _I_ give it a try?"

Evelyn brushed her eight-year-old son off her skirt. "Alex, you know better than to play with fire. I'm the Egyptology expert here." Snatching the torch from Rick, she carefully worked down the wall, illuminating each rocky fragment. "Just a few more turns in the tunnel, say the good natives in the village back there, and we'll be out in the sun again. With a lovely view of Hamunaptra, as it happens."

Rick's brisk footsteps came to a shocked halt. "Hamunaptra? Please. Don't let it be the City of the Dead."

"Well, how many Hamunaptras in Egypt did you expect there to be? I'm surprised you never realised where these tunnels open out into. Oh yes, you were never very good at map-reading."

"I'm not going to Hamunaptra," said Rick stoicly. "I've been there once, and trust me, I don't think the place has gotten any better since we last escaped from it. Evy, I have a bad feeling about this."

"I never asked you to go _in _there. We're only digging at the base of the cliffs. A fact which you should also have remembered, but then you _never_ read any of my notes before the excavations, did you?"

"Quit bickering, guys," shouted Alex from somewhere ahead of them. "I think I've found the opening in the wall."

Evelyn stuck her torch into the hole. Alex was right. "_Well_. Good job."

"Atta boy, Alex," said Rick, fondly ruffling his son's hair. Alex grinned and dodged his father, climbing nimbly into the hole like a monkey. Evelyn tutted, gathering up her skirts and stepping in after Alex. "Alex! I always said, let the person with the torch go – " She froze as the flickering torchlight illuminating the scene before her. Rick, who was halfway through the hole, froze too. "– first." The word was uttered in a trembling tone, and plummeted dismally in the following silence.

"O'Connell." Imhotep's tone was coldly triumphant. Not surprising, since he was dangling Alex by the scruff of his neck before the polished scimitar blade. Alex kicked and struggled, but Imhotep was much too strong. Imhotep met the eyes of the aghast two. "We meet again."

"Goddamn it," swore Rick under his breath. "Not him again." Out loud he said: "How many times do we have to kill you, you scoundrel?"

"Never enough," replied their old enemy.

Evelyn's heart was hammering in her ribcage like a piston on an overheated train. It had been true, her dream, after all. If only she had tried harder to convince them... Her throat became tight and dry.

Imhotep was delighted. Not only had he retrieved Anck-su-namun's body, but Fortune was now offering vengeance upon his old enemies, at whose hands he had suffered such humiliation and agony. Now, if he could only reach that Ankh...

Evelyn saw his moment of hesitation and pounced.

Things proceeded to accelerate. Evelyn got a cut across her hand, but managed to deflect the scimitar and grab Alex. Imhotep groped around and tore the Ankh of Time from where it hung about his neck. He reached behind him and found Anck-su-namun's dead hand, which he clasped. At the same time, his other hand sneaked out and latched onto Alex's shoulder. Evelyn screamed and pulled at Alex.

And then they all disappeared.

Rick stared at the empty space before him, dumbfounded. They had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing behind but the slight marks in the dust of the ground.

"I see I came too late."

Rick spun around and nailed Ardeth Bay to the wall. "What did you guys do this time?" he yelled. "What – is – the – problem – with – that – mummy! He took Evelyn and Alex! Again! If you Medjai claim to be the ones taking care of him, you're doing a bang-up job, I tell you."

Ardeth seemed to be amazingly unperturbed, for one whose old friend had just rammed him against the wall. After all, it was the sort of thing Rick did to relieve stress.

"Us inept Medjai have been following Imhotep since he left Hamunaptra, presumably to dig up the body of Anck-su-namun. And we also discovered that he has been using an Ankh of Time – my friend, if you put me down I should breathe easier."

Rick released Ardeth. "Ankh of Time? Explain."

Ardeth rearranged his cloak and proceeded with his narrative. "An Ankh of Time is a rare amulet that allows one to travel amidst the years of Egypt. Apparently, our mummy travelled here from another land – in your Europe, I believe – and now he has returned there."

Rick groaned. "And how do we rescue Alex and Evy? You don't have another of those time-thingies, do you?"

"Actually," said Ardeth Bay, reaching into his robes and drawing out a golden ankh on a thin chain, "I do."

Rick stared at the Ankh of Time Ardeth Bay was dangling in front of him. "That was a rhetorical question, actually."

"I realised." The Medjai Lord took Rick's hand and placed it on top of the Ankh. "Are you ready, my friend?"

"Just get on with it, will you?"

Ardeth sighed. He shut his eyes and enunciated the same Words of Power that Imhotep had used.

And the world dissolved into a myriad of golden sparks, very dizzingly, and became a glittering whirlpool, which sucked them in. Everything burst into a display of golden fireworks, which collapsed into golden mist.

Rick coughed and brushed the mist away with his free hand. It touched something cold and hard – stone. As the mist cleared, they realised they were in some ancient medieval castle. Outside a huge window paned with a million glass panels, snowballs hurled themselves in continuous suicide attempts against the glass, splattering into white spray.

Rick towed Ardeth down the colossal hallway, with a ceiling so high it ached just to look at it. Their footsteps echoed off the stone flags, and Ardeth made Rick slow down and walk more cautiously. Even so, faint slapping noises came from their feet and ricocheted off the walls.

At the corner, they halted. There were voices coming from around the corner – many voices, at least five different ones. They were discussing something in a very agitated manner. Rick fingered the revolver in his pocket. He always carried one with him. You never knew, not with all the saving-the-world business.

He decided to take a calculated risk, and poked his head around the corner to see their opponents. And froze. Very wise of him, as it turned out that the point of a glinting metal blade was quivering about an inch in front of his nose.

"What the hell," muttered Rick.

"Well," said the owner of the sword softly. "What have we here? Caught you off your guard, didn't we?"

Rick found himself gazing into the eyes of his attacker. And he didn't like what he saw there.

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming ... _**Dinner with Dracula**

In which Artemis finds out just how naïve some people can be, the Brides become especially threatening and our three geniuses receive a nasty surprise.


	10. Dinner with Dracula

**Evil from the Past**

Author's Note: I do realise some people were quite unhappy about the last chapter (namely Cerse and Zeggy) but I cannot resist Anck-su-namun and Ardeth Bay. Especially Anck-su-namun. She will come in useful.

My honest thanks to the reviews for Chapter 9 (especially I AM EOWYN. You really try to keep up? Goodness, not even Manveri does that – I have to update her myself.) Thank you, Zeggy, for pointing out that I did have a lot of flames. I know it took a little long to update, but as long as Ithaca remained an unconquerable Humanities project, I could not type.

Well. After the detour of the Mummy Returns, I shall return to my poor sufferers.

**Dinner with Dracula**

_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century_

"I have no idea why I'm doing this," said Foaly, as he jammed a wrench furiously into the mass of wires beneath Dracula's machine. "I'm actually working for the people who killed Holly." Grinding his teeth in fruitless anger, he detached a small metal part and yanked it out with a lot of unnecessary force.

Hermione sighed. Brushing an irritating strand of brown hair out of her eyes, she flicked her wand at a machine part. "I thought it was because the vampires will set us free once this is done." Bright sparks bounced off the metal part and sparkled. "As to the machine's singular chemical-metabolism component, I've removed the requirement for unusual chemical make-up in the lifeform. Now any lifeform will suffice to provide the metabolic energy for the machine."

Artemis delicately connected a few wires. His eyes were blurry and very tired, but none of them dared slack for a moment. He raised his eyes momentarily, and met those of Captain Barbossa standing sentry by the laboratory door. The pirate gave him a lopsided leer. Artemis ducked his gaze and turned instead to Hermione.

"Do you expect me to believe, mademoiselle," he said coldly, "that you are truly so naïve?"

Hermione threw him a suspicious look, and went on magicking machine parts. Artemis went on. "Did you really think all this while they would go to the trouble to release us? Minds like Dracula's don't work that way. Once we have completed it, they will dispose of us."

Hermione glared at him. "Then why are you still working for them?"

Artemis rolled his eyes. "For someone of your intellect, you seem very ignorant of the facts. If we refuse to work, or so much as try to delay, they will dispose of us at once. And I think you would agree that it is preferable to have a few more hours of survival than to have none at all."

Hermione chose not to reply, and turned back to her work.

"That reminds me," called Foaly as he crawled out from under the machine pod. "Since they're going to dispose of us once we're done fixing this thing, haven't you got any ideas how to get out being disposed of?"

"It slipped my mind," admitted Artemis.

Foaly snorted. "Some geniuses we turn out to be."

Hermione finished another machine part and tapped it thoughtfully with her wand. "Although I've removed the part about unusual chemical-metabolism, won't that still mean Dracula will need a living thing to work this machine?"

"Of course it means that." Foaly positioned a few conductors. "How else do you think Dracula would make this machine work? He designed it to electrocute people so their energy could bring others to life. Didn't you know that already?"

"I doubt," came Artemis's voice from the other side of the machine. "She's very naïve, as I just found out."

Hermione had turned pale. "_Electrocute_ people? But...but then we're aiding him to murder!"

Foaly shrugged. "Not like we have a choice. Besides, that's not the worse thing. I don't think you realised that the people he's bringing to life are his baby vampires? And that they're going to proceed to suck the blood of the whole world dry?"

Hermione gulped. "Can't...can't we do anything to stop it?"

Artemis got up and crawled carefully to Hermione's side. With a wary eye on Barbossa, he put a fairly large box on the floor in front of her. "Actually, I have an idea."

Hermione stared at the box and at him in confusion.

Foaly came over discreetly to join them. "You think you can stop the operation with this!" he guffawed. The other two waited for him to finish laughing. Finally he did.

"Well." He looked at the contraption, turned it over, and looked at Artemis. "I don't know if it will help at all, but at least it's something. Which is always better than nothing."

'Well? How are we getting on?"

Artemis kicked the box neatly into a corner behind them as the Count entered the room. He passed Barbossa, who turned and followed him as Dracula bore down upon the three of them. "How is it? Are we finished yet?"

Foaly glanced at the machine. "Almost. Actually, we only need a few finishing touches, and it'll be complete."

The Count laughed. There was an evil ring to it. "Excellent!" He clapped Foaly and Artemis on the shoulder, and did not notice as both winced involuntarily. "Now, if you'll hurry up, I shall be holding a little banquet tonight to celebrate this – new development. You three are invited. So, mop up quickly, and I'll get my three Brides to see if you need anything." He grinned jovially at them. Artemis forced an answering smile on his face.

"We are most grateful," he muttered with as much charm as he could muster in the presence of this monster.

Dracula laughed again, and swept out as quickly as he had arrived. Only Captain Barbossa remained, still leering his lopsided leer.

"I have a bad feeling about this," muttered Foaly broodingly.

* * *

Both trios faced each other from across the room, a stony silence between them. Aleera broke the silence, with what she presumed to be a pleasant smile. "Well. Our master bids us congratulate you on your excellent work and prepare you for the dinner."

Artemis realised that the other two were expecting him to answer for them. "Thank you," he said frostily.

Verona turned her gaze to Hermione, who tried discreetly to shake her unkempt hair back over her shoulder and hide the recent rips in her robe sleeves. "Our master desires that we help you get ready," she murmured. "The boy and the centaur are all very well, but as a young lady, my dear, you need to look your best." She looked meaningfully at Hermione. "You look most untidy, my dear. Won't you come with us so we can get you ready?"

Hermione shot a terrified glance at her and looked towards Foaly and Artemis for help. Artemis doubted the Brides meant well, but he badly needed a distraction to install his box. It would depend if Hermione was willing to take the risk.

"On one hand," he whispered in Hermione's ear, "I don't think they want to have you for dressing up only. But I need a distraction to get my plan in place, and you will provide the perfect one."

Hermione looked petrified, but swallowed bravely. "I'll go," she said, her voice nervous but clear. The Brides smiled and swept out of the room. Hermione followed. At the door she turned for a last glance at her fellow prisoners. Then she disappeared.

Immediately, Artemis put his plans into action. After making sure both the Brides and Barbossa were gone, he left the laboratory, sprinting down the winding stairs as quickly as he could with his box clutched to his chest. Out of a window, he saw a broken bridge spanning the two towers of Castle Dracula. That would have to do. Heart thumping, he raced onto the half of the broken bridge that connected to the tower he was on. He only hoped Hermione emerged from this distraction alive.

They were pulling a comb through her tangled tresses – it hurt, unbelievably painful, as each tangle resisted a brief moment, and then was ripped mercilessly apart. Hermione winced again as Verona plowed through the last few inches of her hair, tangles snapping and splitting as she went. At last, the Bride put the dreaded comb down. Hermione gingerly touched her aching head, wondering what they had in store next.

Hermione could hear them whispering as they drifted about her. Aleera paused behind her, resplendent in her own red-and-black gown. "What colour, do you think?"

"She's a plain thing," began Marishka, but Verona silenced her with a wave of a glittering green sleeve. "Say no more of such remarks," hissed the Bride. "She is good-looking enough. I say black."

"True," purred Aleera, running a sharp fingernail along Hermione's neck. Hermione could not hold back a shudder. "See how pale she is. She has such smooth skin...I like them young, don't you, Verona my dear?"

"I do agree." Verona frowned, comparing two black gowns. "In their youth mortals have such tender flesh. Marishka, which do you say is more fitting?"

"The one with lace sleeves." Marishka picked that one out and swept over to where Aleera was poised behind Hermione. "Girls especially. Their blood is so very sweet."

Hermione stared at herself in the ancient mirror. Wrought metalwork swirled about her white, drawn face. Behind her, Aleera's reflection was non-existent. The mirror also reflected neither Verona by the wardrobe, or Marishka coming up with the dress over her arm. She could not stop her continual shivering. This was a terrible, terrible nightmare.

"I want her," said Marishka petulantly. "It's not fair you two always take the best ones."

Aleera waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, you can have the girl when the Master's done with her. I promised the boy that I would deal with him."

"And leave me with the centaur," mused Verona. "I suppose I don't mind." She flashed her fellow Brides a dazzlingly diabolical smile.

Marishka placed the black dress in Hermione's lap and laid her cold hard hand on the girl's shoulder. Hermione's eyes flicked to it nervously, then back to her reflection. Apart from the slight impression in the cloth on her shoulder, there was no sign of the hand being there. She shut her eyes, her shoulders shaking as a wave of cold washed over her person.

"You're terrifying her, you know," reprimanded Verona.

Marishka giggled. "But isn't that the idea?"

She took her hand back, and all three Brides swept out of the room like an icy breeze on its way to a blizzard, leaving Hermione alone in the room.

Hermione tore her eyes away from the mirror. Her frame convulsed, and she clenched her hands in vain to stop the dreadful trembling. Her mind had deserted her, had been frozen blank, and all she could think about was the terrifying cold that the Brides had instilled in her, that overwhelming emotion that she had once called fear, but was so much more worse.

* * *

When Artemis returned to the laboratory, it was empty. A quick search of the surrounding rooms revealed his fellow compatriots in what seemed to be an abandoned dressing-room. Hermione was sitting in front of the dressing table, staring into space, hands locked in the crumpled black linen on her lap. Foaly was, rather helplessly, trying to get her to talk normally. In vain, as it appeared.

Artemis tentatively waved his hand in front of her face. Hermione did not even blink. He sighed.

"Look, Hermione, but we haven't got time for this. We are in a potentially dangerous situation. In fifteen minutes someone will come to escort us down to have dinner with Dracula. That, I am quite sure, is alarming enough to interrupt your, well, trance."

Hermione seemed to make a final effort to shake herself out of her frozen state. "F-fifteen minutes?"

"At last," muttered Foaly.

"I suppose I...I'd better get ready then." Hermione still looked traumatized. "It won't do to anger the Brides, I guess."

"Not at all," said Artemis, as he and Foaly turned to leave. They were at the door when Hermione said tremblingly, "Oh, and..."

They turned. Hermione's eyes were filled with desolation and the memory of the horror she had just experienced. "I understand now. About what you said. That I was really naïve. And now I know how – how evil they are." Her voice had no hope in it. "I think I had better hurry."

* * *

It was the first time that Artemis had been so close to the count. Dracula was seated at the head of the table, with Aleera on his left and Artemis on his right. Aleera caught Artemis's eye from across the table and smiled promisingly in her malicious way. Artemis chose to ignore that glance.

Hermione was in the chair between him and Foaly, not daring to look up because Verona was directly opposite her. On Verona's left, Marishka tapped her fork impatiently on her plate. Barbossa, on Foaly's right, was trying to engage Imhotep in conversation about his 'trip'.

Foaly looked to his left. He would never call Artemis vampirical again, not after seeing him next to Dracula. He moved his glance back to his own plate. Opposite him, Marishka raised her voice and called to Dracula. "My lord, why do the servants tarry so? We have waited long enough, and I – " Verona gave her a sharp glance. "Manners, Marishka!" she hissed under her breath. Marishka subsided.

Dwergi came and poured drinks. Artemis, who was very thirsty, took the glass flute and drank deeply. A metallic, sickly tang filled his mouth, beckoning a wave of nausea. He choked and almost dropped the glass. Struggling to regain his composure, he dabbed the edge of his mouth with a napkin. It came away with a crimson smear of blood.

Dracula was watching him, very amused. "I do apologize," he said when Artemis had stopped coughing. The count looked hardly apologetic. "I had – forgotten that we had human guests among us." He clapped his hands. The dwergi hurried up with glasses of water to replace the blood.

Dinner was an unnerving experience. Throughout the whole meal, which Dracula continuously assured them had nothing human in it (they had to take his word for it, because they hadn't eaten since their capture) Dracula grilled Artemis about the machine. Artemis ate mechanically, while his mouth spoke on, kept running on telling Dracula everything he wanted to know, and all the while his heart was jittering like a terrified bird in his ribcage and his head itself was blank and scared stiff. This, thought a random unfrozen part of his brain, must be what Hermione had gone through just now.

Barbossa, having failed to engage Imhotep in conversation, turned his attention to Foaly. Foaly was forced to patiently explain the workings of their machine to the uneducated pirate, and refrain from dumping his glass of water on Barbossa's rather ignorant head. He reminded himself again that he was an unappreciated genius.

Hermione said nothing, and ate very little.

At the end of dinner, Dracula nodded to his guests politely. "It has been a very pleasant evening, and I hope you enjoyed your dinner." Artemis could only nod numbly. "I really must thank you for all your work on my machine, which my associates and I do appreciate." Foaly restrained himself from snorting. "Now, I hope you will not protest when I ask you to grant me this last favour in my service. As you must be quite clear, I require some humans – or at least living beings, to conduct the next revival."

Hermione's mouth opened in a wordless gasp.

Dracula continued. "And I believe you would make the perfect sacrifice for this machine you have created for me."

Artemis's frozen mind managed to thaw out the realization that they were going to die.

Foaly hid his face in his hairy hands. "Why am I not surprised?"

Imhotep and Barbossa rose. "My associates," went on Dracula blithely, "will escort you to your new abode. I'd advise you not to resist."

There was no resistance. The fight had left all of them, even Foaly. They were herded out of the dining room and down several more corridors and flights of stairs, flanked by Imhotep and Barbossa. Dracula followed at a distance with his Brides.

They went down a final corridor with a massive triple-bolted door at the end. It took Imhotep all his strength to shove all three bolt out of their latches. As the door swung open, a blast of frozen air ruffled Hermione's bushy hair.

In the centre of the dismal cold room was a huge vertical rail that led up through the gaping ceiling and into the space beyond – a rail wide enough to attach around four or five pods containing human beings to – and there were two shivering figures huddled at the base of the rail, away from the immense ice blocks that were piled against the walls, radiating frost.

Alex looked up as Barbossa unceremoniously shoved the three new members of this prison through the door. "Look, Mom. We've got company."

* * *

Nobody spoke in a long while. Half an hour in a freezing prison cell, in the company of several giant ice blocks and machine pods, with the prospect of death before one's eyes, tends to minimise the desire for conversation.

Foaly glanced up through the open ceiling. Directly above them was a platform that jutted out above the broken bridge. He guessed that it was connected to the laboratory. This hypothesis was confirmed when he strained his neck to the side and managed to get a good view of the Dwergi shifting their machine and equipment and setting it up again on the platform. It was quite clear; they would be put into the pods in this prison cell, attached to the rail and sent up to be electrocuted. Murder methodically.

Artemis was meditating again, although how he could manage with his face going blue and his lips white, Foaly had no idea. Hermione was trembling beside the O'Connells, who were huddled together for warmth, Alex in Evelyn's embrace. Icicles were forming in Evelyn's and Hermione's hair.

But all the prisoners became alert at the sound of the bolts being drawn back and the door screeching open. Dracula and Barbossa stood at the door.

Leaving Barbossa to stand guard at the door, Dracula strode in, yanking Evelyn up by the arm and dragging her over to a pod, which he pushed her into and began strapping her down. "Oi!" yelled Alex, and hurled himself at Dracula's leg. A careless kick sent him slamming into the nearest ice block. Hermione put out her arm to steady the kid, but Alex was already on his feet and launching the next attack.  
The count paid no more attention to him.

Evelyn was struggling madly. "What are you doing to me?" she screamed. "_What are you doing!_"

"You will see," replied the vampire coldly.

He attached the pod to the rail carefully, clamping it down. Then he called upwards in a booming voice: "It is ready."

There was no reply, but a whirring noise began. The conveyor strip crunched and began moving, sending Evelyn in the pod up towards the platform and the revival machine.

"Mom!" yelled Alex. "MOM!"

Evelyn tore at her bonds, but the metal straps resisted her frenzied struggling. Below her, Alex and Dracula grew smaller and smaller, till her son's anxious face was a dot in the darkness below. She looked up. The open sky above the platform was growing threateningly dark, storm clouds rushing in to gather above the castle. Already she was nearing the platform.

Evelyn O'Connell closed her eyes and prepared to meet her fate.

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming..._**Through the Looking-Glass**

In which Castle Dracula is broken into, there are some reunions and the pieces on this chessboard move into their positions for the final attack.


	11. Through the Looking Glass

**Evil from the Past**

Author's Note: Finally got rid of that irritating illness! Goodbye cough mixture, hello chocolate! Yay!

Thank you to all my old reviewers, plus Reicheru, cocoaducks and MisticWolf. It's very nice, I AM EOWYN, to say it should be made into a movie. That'd be cool. Don't worry, Zeggy, people are gonna die. Soon. Manveri still hasn't guessed who my favourite Bride is. Think you know? Try and guess!

Anyway, back to all the action.

**Through the Looking-Glass**

_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century_

The first thing Harry saw when he stepped out of the looking-glass was Castle Dracula. It towered over them, dark and forbidding, and it looked like it had been carved out of the black rock of the mountains around it by the Devil's own hand, its towers and turrets sprouting out of the monstrous foundations like sinister fingers. The Time Shuttle sat motionless beside a colossal wall of a door – an impenetrable slab of stone.

Castle Dracula was clearly designed to scare the living daylights out of anyone who set eyes on it. It certainly had the desired effect on Ron, who stopped short in alarm and began to back away hastily. He bumped into the mirror and rebounded off. The mirror had melted into the black rock that seemed to make up the rest of the landscape. No escape from that point, then.

Everyone else had crossed the field of packed white snow and now stood confronted by the massive door. Their eyes ran up and down its slick sides, searching for weak points – and finding none. The only way to open it seemed to be from inside.

"An impossible entrance," breathed Faramir.

Holly surveyed Castle Dracula and its impassable door. The evil aura of the castle struck chords of fear upon her heartstrings, as it did for the rest. But Holly Short of LEPRecon had never really let that particular emotion bother her.

"Permission to enter, Commander?"

"Permission granted. No need for doctrine in this case; feel free to wreak havoc in the house of the undead."

"You think you can scale that thing?" began Anna, but Holly ignored her. Fitting a piton dart into the launcher of her Neutrino, she aimed the gun at the crack between the top of the door and its frame and fired.

The dart whizzed through the frigid air and lodged securely onto the door frame. Holly activated the piton cord winch. She was lifted into the air, bounding gently along the vertical surface like a rock-climber. She reached the top and scrambled between the narrow space there. A neat fit.

Holly checked that her dart was still firmly embedded in the rock, and proceeded to abseil down the other side of the door. So easy, she thought.

Then she received a rather unpleasant surprise. Her booted foot connected with something soft, with a resulting sickly squelch.

Holly looked down. Her foot had penetrated what seemed like a slimy white cocoon, through the viscous goo, and was resting next to something solid. A closer look revealed it to be a horrifyingly ugly bat-like creature, already armed with a pair of tiny razor fangs. Her stomach twisted in disgust at the sight. Forcing back a scream, she yanked her foot out the revolting substance. All around her, similar cocoons hung from the rafters, the ceiling, the soaring beams, with electrical wires sticking out of them. Realization dawned. Dracula's undead children. And he wanted to bring them to life...

No time to waste, then. Holly descended quickly, snapping the cord. A flywheel lay next to the entrance. With all her strength, Holly cranked the massive wheel backward, the rusty metal scraping against her palms which were growing steadily sweatier. Finally, the door creaked forward and slowly lowered itself, until the other members of the rescue party could climb over it and enter the enormous foyer of the castle.

"This place is huge," breathed Ron in awe as he stared around him.

Captain Jack Sparrow was arguing with his crew members on the prostrate door. "I'm telling you, we need back-up! Why can't you lot stay outside the castle with the cannons? Divide and conquer, savvy?"

"We're for going in," retorted Anamaria, "and we will."

"Who's Captain here?" snapped Jack, drawing himself up to his full height. "Does that word mean any to you skulduggering scoundrels?"

The crew subsided reluctantly.

"That's the attitude, mates. Now, you wait outside, and don't come in till I call. Savvy?"

"Aye, Cap'n," replied the sullen crew.

Jack tipped his hat and rejoined the others, who were exploring the interior of the front hall and poking in barely suppressed disgust at the baby vampires in their cocoons. "Ick," muttered Ron. Harry grimaced in agreement and wiped his finger on the stone wall, leaving a slimy trail.

Holly noticed a grating at the end of the hall and went over. If she removed her helmet, her head was just small enough to pass through the iron bars. She was looking down into what seemed like a prison cell – with Foaly in it.

"Psst! Foaly!"

The centaur looked up, surprised. "Holly! So they didn't get you after all."

"You think I'd kick the bucket so easily? What are those pod-things you're sitting in?"

Foaly looked down at the machine pod. "Dracula put us into them – you're lucky you came when you did, because he's just left to go up to his laboratory. The pods are bringing us up to that there platform to be electrocuted. Yeah, and that's about it."

The others by then had gathered around the grating. Harry stared into the icy gloom and managed to discern Hermione's limp form in one of the pods. Hermione stirred slightly. "H-Harry? I'm-I'm not hallucinating, am I?"

Foaly jerked his head at the other three humans. "They didn't seem to take to the cold so well."

Holly turned to the pod containing Artemis. "Artemis? Can you hear me? Say something, for Frond's sake!"

Artemis could hear Holly's voice hovering on the edges of his consciousness, just slightly out of reach. It took a lot of effort to wade through the icy waters of his mind after her voice. "You must excuse me, Holly," he spoke, slowly, "if the conditions down here are a bit too cold for my mind's cognition."

"That's more like it, Mud Boy."

Van Helsing, who was standing at the side of the group, felt an odd sensation pass over him. Suddenly, he doubled up in pain as the curse stretched and tore at his insides till his ribs felt like bursting. Anna put out a concerned hand to support him.

Hermione twisted her head to cast Van Helsing a suspicious glance. "Do you know he's a werewolf?" she asked Harry and Ron.

"How do _you_ know that?" asked Ron incredulously.

"I know the symptoms. I was very interested in werewolves after Professor Lupin – well, you know." Hermione's voice had regained its old know-it-all tone. "But you can cure him. I know where the cure is."

"And how do you know _that_?" asked Anna.

"By keeping my ears peeled while I was around here. Now, from where you're standing you can see two staircases. If you face us, the stairs on the right lead to the Black Tower; the cure's in the room at the top, so I heard."

"Right," said Anna. "What about the one on the left?"

"To the Devil's Tower," answered Foaly. "The laboratory, where Dracula's going to electrocute us."

"I see."

"There's something not right," Van Helsing had recovered, and he was thinking out loud. "Why would Dracula have a cure in the first place?"

Artemis raised his tired head. "I should have thought it quite obvious. The only creature that can kill Dracula is a werewolf. Hence, he would need a cure to remove the curse before one killed him."

The group was silent. They had just been enlightened. Van Helsing's curse was the only way to kill Dracula and save the world from vampiric destruction.

"That's it, then." Van Helsing had made up his mind. "I'll deal with Dracula."

"You need the cure," stated Anna firmly. "I'll get that."

While this exchange was going on, Aragorn had noticed something. His ranger's sharp hearing had caught footsteps coming down a corridor round the corner. Andúril whipped through the air like lightning and came to a stop dead in front of the face of a new intruder.

"What the hell," muttered Rick O'Connell.

"Well," said Aragorn softly but triumphantly. "What have we here? Caught you off your guard, didn't we?"

Ardeth Bay's scimitar sliced through the air to point at Aragorn's neck. "Harm my friend and you die."

This unexpected stalemate was interrupted by a cry. Alex, who had been silent up till now, had caught sight of Rick. "Dad!"

"Alex!" exclaimed Rick.

Alex turned to Holly for help. "Please," he pleaded, "tell that guy not to kill Dad. He really doesn't mean any harm."

"Hear that?" Holly called to Aragorn. "The guy – I mean man – means no harm."

Rick sincerely looked like he meant otherwise.

Aragorn glared at Rick, then removed his sword. Ardeth removed his scimitar. He and Rick glared back.

"Dad," interrupted Alex again. "They've got Mom, and they took her up there."

"To be electrocuted," added Foaly unhelpfully.

"_Electrocuted_?!" Rick stared up at the platform, mouth open in shock. "Evy!"

"It's a long way up," pointed out Holly, equally unhelpfully.

* * *

The pod with Evelyn in it was now on the platform and wired to the machine and yet another pod. Evelyn strained her neck to see over the side of the pod and caught her breath. "Not – _her_."

Imhotep appeared in her field of vision, looking viciously triumphant. "Yes. And you will be my sacrifice to her."

Evelyn groaned. Above her, the sky crackled with uneasy lightning. "Why does it always have to be me?"

"Because no one else hates her as much as you do," offered Imhotep. He checked the wiring and pulled down several levers. A complicated-looking lightning-rod unfolded out of the machine and creaked into the electrical air. Evelyn stared at it in horror.

Imhotep crossed over to Anck-su-namun in her pod, stroking her long black hair. Her face in death was bitterly beautiful. He positioned her arms crossed over her breast, like the Pharaohs in their tombs were positioned, but into each of her hands he placed one of the golden pair of daggers she had so loved. "Soon, my beloved," he whispered in Egyptian. "Soon we shall be together again."

"Sick," muttered Evelyn.

Imhotep turned to her. "Any last words?"

Evelyn spat at him. "I hope you go to hell. And I mean that literally."

Imhotep's nostrils flared. Turning his back on her, he strode to the very edge of the platform, above the eight-hundred-foot drop. Raising his arms, he roared a Word of Power at the roiling heavens. In reply, the sky cracked into half with a blinding flash that sent lightning bolts streaming down at the conductor.

Oh, God, no, thought Evelyn in the remaining second left to her.

Then lightning struck the conductor, and spread like liquid fire into her flesh. The pain was beyond all description, and she screamed, screamed as her body convulsed in a tight ball of agony. And in the midst of the blackening world of pain, she heard above it all a dismaying sound: the sound of Anck-su-namun's gasp of life.

* * *

"You can't climb that wall like that," pointed out Holly.

"You should not doubt him," argued Ardeth. "He has performed many marvels I myself can hardly believe."

As if to gainsay him, Rick lost his grip on the slippery stones and landed sprawled in a heap before them.

Holly rolled her eyes. "Mud Men."

Suddenly, Evelyn's agonized scream echoed round the shaft. Rick scrambled back onto his feet, still determined. "Evy's up there, and I can't give her up." He rushed forward to make another attempt on the wall of the shaft, but Holly's next words stopped him.

"You can't climb it, you know. What I can do is fly you up."

Rick turned and stared down at the elf. "You're not joking."

"She's serious," said Root. "Deadly so."

Rick didn't say anything for a long time. When he did open his mouth, the one word he spoke was: "_How?_"

Holly handed him the piton cord clip. "Clip yourself on and you'll see."

They were interrupted, however, by an alarming noise. It was the noise of the conveyor belt in the shaft creaking into life. Cogs grinded. Sparks flew. And slowly but inexorably, the four pods containing the prisoners began to rise up on the long ascent to the electrocution platform.

Foaly's eyes widened in shock. "Uh, a little help here?"

"Is there anyway you can stop this thing?" asked Harry.

"There is," said Artemis, voice rising in urgency. "Up there, there's a bridge, a broken bridge, and if you climb up to the part connected to the Devil's Tower, you'll see a box, a metal wired box. All you need to do is destroy it, and it'll short-circuit the system."

"That's fairly simple," observed Van Helsing.

Aragorn stepped forward. "I shall destroy the box."

Éowyn and Faramir stepped forward too. "We go with our lord."

Holly set her wings in motion. "I'll take us up to the platform."

Anna drew her saber. "I'll get the werewolf's cure."

"I'll go with her," volunteered Jack.

"I guess that leaves me and the Mud Boys to save the prisoners once the box is destroyed," sighed Root.

"You have me too," added Ardeth.

Van Helsing looked around at his extraordinary companions. "I see. And I deal with Dracula, right?"

"Right," said Anna. "Be careful. Dracula's dangerous."

"I know. Watch out yourself. If she doesn't come back in one piece, pirate, I'll have your head."

"It's Captain Jack Sparrow, you know."

"Never mind. And _hurry_. If you're late – well, then run like hell."

"Got that," replied Anna, and turned towards the Black Tower. But Van Helsing had one more thing to make clear. He caught her wrist. "Anna..."

She spun around, black curls tossing. He could see the impatience in her eyes. "Yes?"

Van Helsing pulled her to him and kissed her.

No one else interrupted their kiss, despite the fact that things were in quite a hurry. Commander Root actually opened his mouth to clear his throat ominously, but received Holly's elbow in his ribs.

Anna reluctantly pulled away, staring into the depths of Van Helsing's eyes. "Well," announced Jack, rather awkwardly. "I guess we'd better be going." He turned to the others. "Gentlemen – " he cast a sideways glance at Holly, Éowyn and Anna, "– ladies. It's been a pleasure."

"Thank you very much," replied Holly courteously.

Jack tipped his hat, and he and Anna began their run towards the Black Tower staircase. Van Helsing cast one last look after Anna, and followed Aragorn, Éowyn and Faramir to the Devil's Tower. Holly fired up her wings and she and Rick zoomed upwards towards the platform. Root and his team set about making plans for freeing the prisoners.

And so each of them set off on their separate missions – rescuing prisoners, retrieving cures, facing down monsters, and perhaps ultimately in the bargain, saving the world. If they succeeded, that was.

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming..._**The Twelve Strokes of Midnight**

In which Good and Evil have their Final Showdown.


	12. The Twelve Strokes of Midnight

**Evil from the Past**

Author's Note: You should be proud of me. This is a sixteen-page long chapter. Time for applause and confetti.

Mourn for my poor Manveri. Some donghead deactivated her account, and she had to go get a new one. For all readers of Crystal Love by manveri[reachforthesky]estel, know that your beloved author was removed. Now, Crystal Love fans can look for Manveri at manveri[daughterofmirkwood] and give her twice the amount of reviews my poor darling lost. There you go.

Applaud Kismet, O beloved one, who gave me 11 reviews in one go! It's a record! And such nice reviews too. Me loves dear Kismet. Also, I shall thank mad sam, Fairy Tale and Dinosaur K, icycoolhermione, Sean Malloy-1 (you have my solemn promise that I shall make myself kill Van Helsing before I touch a hair on Anna's head. Hey, maybe a dead Van Helsing is a good idea...), cocoaducks, I AM EOWYN and Zeggy. Love you all too.

And lastly, the dreadful rumour circulated by Zeggy about this being the last chapter is – not true! I have decided that 16 pages in one chapter is long enough, so I will siphon some off into a 13th chapter. Now, be happy and read my best and favourite chapter so far.

**The Twelve Strokes of Midnight**

_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century_

"This is where I leave you," said Van Helsing.

They were on the half of the broken bridge connected to the Devil's Tower. Aragorn gazed up through the slats in the spiral staircase. "I have an evil feeling about those stairs," he said finally. "You must be very careful."

Van Helsing grinned at him – a daredevil grin. "I never said I'd be going that way."

With a surge of inhuman strength, he leaped up in a rush of werewolf power, to land crouched on the vertical stone outer wall of the Devil's Tower. He turned to look back down at his companions, who were staring open-mouthed at this extraordinary feat.

"Here," he called. "You might need these."

Éowyn neatly caught the bundle of three silver stakes he tossed to her. "We thank you," she called back. "And farewell."

Van Helsing did not reply. He was already scaling the sheer tower wall in a series of powerful bounds. Very soon, the bridge was but a faraway slab of stones, the faces of his companions mere white pinpoints in the darkness below. The tower top was growing closer – and so was Dracula.

A flick of his wrists was enough to send him somersaulting over the stone battlements. Senses enhanced by the werewolf venom, he crouched, surveying the situation. The count was standing before him with his back turned to Van Helsing. He was about to attack when Dracula spoke.

"Well, well. I can't say I'm surprised, Gabriel."

Dracula turned. A pleasant smile, barely masking the undercurrent of malevolence, was upon his face. Van Helsing checked himself.

"I'm here to stop you, Count."

Dracula tutted. "Too late, Gabriel. Any moment now the prisoners will be ready for electrocution, and then my children shall _live_." He began to laugh, an evil shuddering laugh that shivered Van Helsing's eardrums.

"Not if I have anything to do with it."

"You tire me, with your obstinacy." Abruptly the Count dropped the lever he had been working with and rose into the air. A maelstrom of wind currents filled the laboratory as he began to transform into the bat creature. Van Helsing backed up against the wall.

The creature Dracula had become was monstrous. This was evil in its pure, undiluted, bloodlusty form, thought Van Helsing even as the demon before glared at him through its blood-red slitted eyes. Huge fangs protruded from the angular mouth and black vicious talons from the vast wings. Dracula the demon roared, his muscles rippling and bulging. Then he was on Van Helsing.

In a rush of air, Van Helsing was hurled backwards out of the laboratory window. The world turned a full circle, then righted itself as he caught hold of the window ledge. He forced his palm down and flipped over, to land upright upon the ledge before Dracula.

Dracula flapped down to hover over the ground, and the two circled each other warily. Then the count melted down into his handsome human form. "Impressive, Gabriel." He did look impressed, and not displeased either.

Dracula's cloak flapped in the night wind as the count stood silhouetted against the laboratory window. Beyond him, and beside the Black Tower, Van Helsing could glimpse an ancient clock tower. Right now the clock hands were nearly at midnight. The minute hand was ticking forward, forward...

"I'm so sorry, though," whispered Dracula, almost regretfully, "but the game has to end here."

Above the clock tower, the mass of grey clouds roiled in agony – and then burst apart, and the full moon rolled forth...

And the minute hand on the clock slammed forward, producing a musical, eerie chime from the clock tower...

Something surged within Van Helsing, something terrible and yet irresistible and overwhelming. He knew the curse was upon him.

"One," he said.

Dracula stared. Van Helsing started to shake as the world zoomed in and out of focus. His heartbeat accelerated, forcing the werewolf venom inexorably through his veins. He felt his old self melting, being shed like a cast-off skin, and being replaced by nothing but a huge ball of rage – animal rage.

"No..." whispered Dracula, "...it...can't...be..."

He was running with the moon now, his limbs throbbing with power. He growled in his throat, and took a step forward towards his prey. For the first time in four hundred years, Dracula actually stepped backwards in fear. He felt desire, lust for the blood of the thing before him – and also a deep-seated satisfaction that he was feared, rightly so. Dracula feared him. Dracula feared the Wolf.

* * *

On the broken bridge, the three stared at the gently humming box that was their assignment.

"Well?" asked Faramir eventually. "How do we destroy it?"

Éowyn stepped forward and swung her sword up over her shoulder. "Like this," she replied, and brought the blade smashing, sparking down into the innards of the box, again, and again, and again.

* * *

Harry heard the cogs grinding to a stop. "They've done it! They've destroyed the box!" 

Root tried to stick his head through the bars, but it was definitely bigger than Holly's. Grunting in frustration, he pulled away and starting melting the bars with the blaster's laser.

"Stand back," came Harry's command from behind him.

Startled, Root drew away. Harry aimed his wand at the shaft wall and yelled: "_Reducto_!"

Rock blasted into chips and shards. Dust was blown up into the air and then settled over the four of them. Up there, they could hear the prisoners coughing.

"We'd better start moving," suggested Ron, "someone will have heard that."

"Right," replied Root, and they advanced up the rubble slope of the detonated wall.

* * *

They had reached the room at the top of the Black Tower, and were now staring at the jar of viscous liquid with the syringe containing the antidote suspended in it. 

"Something doesn't feel right about that jar," muttered Anna.

"No it doesn't – especially not that gooey stuff," agreed Jack fervently.

"But of course!" supplemented Aleera.

They jumped. Aleera was suspended upside down from the ceiling, smiling benignly at them. Slipping down from her perch, the vampire advanced on them smoothly, till all that separated them was the table with the syringe in its jar on it. "Well, well, well. Look who came to keep me company."

Anna was suddenly struck by an idea. Yanking Jack down, she smashed the jar with her sabre and ducked the flying acid. The bulk of it landed on Aleera's face. The vampire screamed very satisfyingly. Anna took advantage of the distraction to seize the syringe, which was smoking dangerously from the acid, and to make a run for it. Jack was about to follow when an iron hand reached out and clamped down on his shoulder.

"Oh no you don't," snarled Aleera. "Not after what you did to my face."

Jack felt himself being spun around to face her regenerating visage. "Keep running, Anna!" he called desperately over his shoulder.

"You can't go until I say you can go," said Aleera in a sing-song tone as she stepped back from him, "and I'll say you can go when you're dead."

"I don't take orders from a woman, lass," replied Jack impertinently.

A blast of wind nearly knocked his hat off. Before him, Aleera morphed, white and devastating. "Well, you will from this one."

"Oh," said Captain Jack Sparrow. "Savvy."

* * *

"It looks like Jack's in danger," observed Mr. Gibbs as he peered at the Black Tower through the field glass. 

Anamaria snatched it away and took a look herself. "By Davy Jones he is," she snapped. She turned around to the rest of the crew. "Cannons! Now!"

* * *

Jack watched Aleera's fangs lengthen. "Be happy in the knowledge that your blood shall make me beautiful..." she murmured as she leaned forward towards the captain, who hastily backed away. 

A cannonball blasted through a window and exploded in the middle of the room. Aleera was knocked off her feet by the sheer force and burst through the other wall, hurtling down into the darkness below. Jack too was blasted after her, but he managed to scramble back onto a ledge on the tower wall. He looked down – too late for acrophobia, he thought – and saw Anna run the last few metres and halt teetering at the edge of the uncrossable gap between the two halves of the bridge. She could never crawl across the girders and reach Van Helsing before the twelfth stroke of midnight.

A crazy idea made itself known in his head. It was extremely dangerous and ridiculous. Jack looked at the long chains hanging down from between the castle walls. Perhaps...

It was a feat no ordinary man could have done without shaking. Even Anna would probably have hesitated. But not Captain Jack Sparrow. With a loud whoop he launched himself into space.

* * *

Holly had hardly unclipped Rick when he dashed off towards Evelyn's pod. Holly drew her Neutrino and ran after him. Peering over the pod edge, she gasped involuntarily. Evelyn's skin was charred and blistered. It did not look very hopeful. 

Rick was tearing in vain at the metal bonds. Holly climbed over the edge and narrowing her Neutrino beam, began to slice through the metal. Together they managed to pull Evelyn out of the pod and lay her down on the platform. Rick smoothed her hair and clasped her blackened hands. "No, Evy. No."

Holly stared in horror at Evelyn's body. That electrocution – such a horrifying thing. She was distracted by a blip on her helmet monitor.

Impossible. Plain impossible. There was no way she could have survived that. But yet...

"Frond," breathed Holly, leaning over Evelyn's chest. There it was – the faintest of heartbeats. Holly pressed her hands there, blue sparks leaping into life. "What are you doing?" Rick, distraught, wanted to know.

"I know it sounds impossible," answered Holly through the flow of magic, "but there's still a chance. She's alive."

Rick opened her mouth to say something, presumably a joyful exclamation, but was cut off as a muscular arm lifted him off the floor and smashed him into the side of the pod. Rick rolled over with a groan and yanked his pistol out of its holster, aiming at Imhotep, but his enemy knocked it out of his hand before he could pull the trigger. Rick scrambled to his feet and the two of them entered into a headlock.

Holly leapt up and spun around, Neutrino at the ready, when another movement caught her eye. Pointing the gun upwards, she took quick aim and looked straight into Anck-su-namun's eyes. The Egyptian girl was extraordinarily beautiful, dark hair framing dark skin, but her eyes – they were like Imhotep's, cold and merciless. Holly's brain processed all this information even as it added the fact the Anck-su-namun was aiming Rick's pistol at her. No time for thinking now. That split second passed, and they both fired simultaneously at each other.

* * *

Dracula took his winged form and shot up to the rafters amongst the ceiling. Not so fast, thought the Wolf, and leapt after him. As a man the distance would have been impossible, but with his powerful muscles he ascended without effort, and he relished his new body even as his claws unsheathed to slash at Dracula. Dracula shrieked and made for the skylight in the laboratory. The Wolf bounded after him, scrambling through the skylight. Dracula would escape. He pounced and pinned the vampire to the rooftop. Dracula struggled frantically and raked his flesh with his talons. The Wolf roared in agony. Dracula yanked free and aimed a talon-tipped wingtip at his snout, but the Wolf tackled him before he could scrape his eyes out and they clashed together on the top of the tower, the two titans of the undead in a battle where only one could triumph. And that would be him, thought the Wolf as they fell through the skylight again, Dracula wriggling like a snake. 

They crashed into one of the machines, and sparks flew up about them, singing his fur, but that did not matter. He picked the count up out of the wreckage and hurled him into yet another machine at the other end of the room. Explosions. Flames. The Wolf howled in exhilaration.

* * *

"Heads up, Anna!" 

Anna looked up, just in time to see an astonishing sight: Captain Jack Sparrow swinging out of the night sky at her, clutching what seemed to a long chain. Then he grabbed her arm, and they went arcing up towards the Devil's Tower. Anna managed to get a good grip on the chain and turned to Jack. "What on earth were you thi—"

A rush of wind passed over their heads, and they both barely ducked Aleera's talons. The Bride had recovered, and she had returned to worrying their backs. _Not now! _thought Anna frantically as Aleera circled beneath them and prepared for a fresh attack. Out of the corner of her eye she saw two more winged shapes join Aleera. The three Brides were on their track now.

Then she heard a maddened shriek of agony, and spared a glance below. Aleera spun out of orbit and whirled away brokenly. They were now swinging over the other half of the bridge and she saw Aragorn leap backwards, Andúril wet with vampire's blood, as what looked like Aleera's foot thumped onto the bridge before him and bounced off into the darkness. He shot Anna and Jack a small smile.

"How dare you, mortal!" screamed Aleera, blood dripping copiously from the stump of her leg. "You will pay!" Keening wildly, the Brides swooped in upon the Bridge, distracted from the two on the chain.

Anna turned back, only to see the wall of the Devil's Tower rushing towards them. "Jump!" yelled Jack, and pushed her. Anna gathered her senses and twisted her body expertly, angling for the small window at one side. She just made it. Tumbling over the ledge, she scrambled up and saw Jack swinging away. "Don't worry about me," he called as he arced back to the Black Tower. "Van Helsing doesn't have much time left!"

Anna nodded, and turned to race up the stairs, but a figure appeared before her. Anna apprehensively transferred the syringe to her left hand and drew her sword, as her new opponent stepped out of the darkness, saber in hand.

"I've been waiting for you, lass," leered Captain Barbossa.

* * *

"_Alohomora_," ordered Ron. 

The locks of the metal straps binding Hermione to the pod snapped open. With some careful manoeuvering, Harry and Ron managed to free her from her bonds and help her onto the back of the Firebolt. Heavily laden, it lowered slowly to the ground.

Root had finished lasering through Foaly's metal bonds. "Here," he said, and offered the Moonbelt. He latched his own self on as Foaly fumbled with the clip. Soon, Foaly was free and back on the ground. He dusted himself off, looking satisfied.

"So," went on Root, "do we save the Mud Boy?"

"Artemis? I guess," sighed Foaly. "After all, we owe him for stopping the machine. You could cancel your own vendetta with Mud People, you know. You've been spending the last few days in their company after all."

Root grunted something unintelligible and fired up his wings again, disappearing into the shaft. Later he returned with Artemis clipped to the Moonbelt.

"Thank you very much," said Artemis politely as they landed on the pile of rubble.

Foaly trotted up. "He'd like to say you're welcome, but being the commander he won't." He elbowed Root playfully. "Right, Julius?"

"You shut your fat mouth before I stick your hooves into it," retorted the commander, secretly glad that the awkward moment was thwarted.

Behind them, an anxious Ardeth Bay helped Alex off the Firebolt. "Thank you," he said fervently to Harry and Ron. "May the Messiah bless you."

"Uh, you're welcome," replied Ron hesitantly.

Commander Root looked around at the rescued prisoners. He opened his mouth to give an order and was hit by something hard and painful on the head. "Ow! D'Arvit, what the..."

He was interrupted at the recognition of the object on the ground. It was Holly's Neutrino blaster.

* * *

In spite of the odds of one in a million, the Neutrino's laser beam missed the bullet from Rick's pistol by picometers. Both missiles, however, did not fail to strike the opposite weapon. With dire consequences, as it happened. 

The bullet did nothing serious to the Neutrino. What it did do, though, was knock it out of Holly's hand. The handgun went flying and missed the platform edge, disappearing into the depths of the shaft.

Rick's pistol was less fortunate. Anck-su-namun dropped it just in time and jumped back as the laser caused it to explode. There was a small explosion, blowing a fairly large hole in the platform floor. As the smoke cleared, gritty black ash that might have been gunpowder remnants drifted off into the night sky.

Anck-su-namun wasted no time in mourning the pistol. She reached into the pod she had been revived in and drew out her pair of long golden daggers. Holly could not help taking a step backwards in trepidation as the once-concubine settled into a duelling stance, daggers glinting in the moonlight, dark eyes flashing ruthlessly. Unarmed combat was not exactly her forte. Especially when her opponent was an Egyptian with a couple of sharp knives and a _lot_ more extra inches than her.

Anck-su-namun attacked, leaping over the hole in the platform, slicing the air with her daggers in a graceful double sweep. Holly saw one of them coming for her and barely dodged it, only to have to duck the second one. The next second she was caught in a cross-sweep as both daggers swept towards her. She evaded them with much difficulty and tripped.

Anck-su-namun stood poised over her, a cruel smile on her full lips. She was speaking in a mocking tongue, probably Ancient Egyptian, thought Holly as her gift of tongues kicked in. "You'd better keep that helmet on," laughed the girl. "Don't want to scar that pretty face, do we?"

Holly felt something clink against her knee. There. Her buzz baton. Her one weapon left and her only chance. Almost undiscernably, she powered up her buzz baton.

"No one calls me pretty," she retorted in the same language, "and lives to tell the tale."

Holly flipped onto her feet, thrusting the buzz baton into her opponent's stomach. Anck-su-namun screamed as the volts rippled across her belly, stumbling backwards into Rick and Imhotep, who were viciously uppercutting each other. All three staggered over the revival pod.

Anck-su-namun was the first to recover. Struggling to her feet, she raised one of the daggers and threw it at Holly, who curled into a ball and rolled away. The dagger lodged in the other pod, about five inches away from Evelyn's head.

Anck-su-namun attacked with the other dagger, but Holly leap-kicked her in the stomach and caught her on the elbow with the buzz baton. Behind them, Rick punched Imhotep in the mouth. Imhotep reeled away and dropped to the ground, kicking Rick savagely in the shin. Rick staggered, nearly falling off the platform.

Evelyn stirred. Her mind was clearing; things were falling into place now. She opened bleary eyes and saw the scene before her. She attempted to struggle to her feet, but her legs wouldn't bear her; she could barely raise her head. She strained further and her forehead struck something. She looked up. It was the hilt of Anck-su-namun's golden dagger.

* * *

Silhouetted against the huge full moon, the Brides gathered in a shrieking cluster of doom. Aragorn clutched Andúril warily. Beside him, he heard Faramir swallow nervously. 

The Brides attacked. Swooping low, they slashed with deadly claws, nearly carving up Faramir's scalp as their three opponents ducked. Almost immediately, they straightened up, swords at the ready, as the Brides prepared a fresh onslaught. As the vampires lunged again, Aragorn lashed out at Marishka, whose foot was nearest. Marishka shrilled as Andúril opened out a long gash on her leg, but nevertheless turned on all three and attacked them. Screeching, Aleera and Verona also threw themselves into hand-to-hand battle.

It was terrifying. The three defenders were buffeted by the gusts from the Brides' wings, hardly able to keep their balance, and assaulted on all sides by claws and fangs. Faramir slashed at Marishka's face while by his side, Éowyn grimly parried Verona's talons. Aragorn and Aleera were battling furiously by the edge of the bridge. "You cut off my favourite foot," hissed Aleera as she rammed a punch at Aragorn. "I'll take both of yours as payment."

"Take this instead, spawn of darkness," spat Aragorn, and sliced across Aleera's wrist.

"We meet again, my dear," called Verona as her swipe just missed Éowyn's ear.

Éowyn gritted her teeth. "And this time you won't leave alive."

Verona took to the air once more. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure."

With a powerful kick, her two muscled legs slammed into the shieldmaiden's chest, thrusting Éowyn backwards to the edge of the bridge. For one alarming moment she struggled against gravity as her feet slipped. A decisive push from Marishka sent her toppling off.

"Éowyn!" yelled Faramir in horror, and got Marishka's claw in his shoulder for the distraction.

"Don't worry," said Verona, launching off the bridge. "I won't let her fall. At least, not yet."

Swooping down, she seized Éowyn by the shoulders and flew her up above the bridge. "And up we go..." she sang.

Éowyn was still grasping her sword. With a Rohirrim war cry she reached up and ran Verona through.

Verona stopped moving, just hovering in mid-air. Then a slow smile spread across her face. She released one of Éowyn's shoulders, letting her captive dangle from one talon, and with the other she took hold of the blade and drew it slowly out, as blood poured in rivers from the hole in her belly. Then she let the sword fall from her bloody hand, to clatter upon the bridge.

"Never," she told Éowyn, "try to kill someone that's already dead."

* * *

Dracula, reverting to his human form, rose to his feet painfully amidst the wreckage. "Gabriel," he panted, "listen to me." 

The Wolf tossed his head and growled impatiently, but Dracula's smooth voice bored into his anger like a gimlet. "We were friends once, Gabriel, _brothers_! Come now, you know that you're being controlled, and I know who's controlling you. Join me, Gabriel, join my cause and embrace your freedom. Don't you remember anything? Nothing about our friendship? Join me, and I'll give you back what you lost!"

The Wolf had heard enough. Howling in frustration, he lunged forward, slamming into Dracula and forcing him up against the wall. Claws around his enemy's neck, the Wolf drew his head back and prepared to sink his teeth into Dracula's neck...

...and something burst. Like a fragile soap bubble floated too long in the sun, rupturing into a shower of invisible droplets...

Outside the window, the clouds had once more obscured the moon's pale face. Van Helsing found, to his horror, that he had his hands clasped around the neck of the most terrifying undead being he had ever faced up close. His heart thumping, he backed away as Dracula turned to look at the clouds screening the moon and then smile at Van Helsing.

"Did I ever mention," said the count callously, "that when I was a mortal, it was _you_ who murdered me?"

* * *

Jack had reached the other pinnacle of his arc, and was now swinging back to the Devil's Tower. Now, he had one last chance... 

The window rushed towards him. With a cry, Jack let go of the chain at the last second and tumbled through the window and into something large and soft.

"Ow!" cried Barbossa, and followed that up with a series of pirate curses unfit for the ears of the general population.

Jack scrambled off Barbossa, who was sprawled on the stone steps, and drew his sabre. "How many times must I tell you," he called to Anna in exasperation. "Don't. Wait. For. Me."

"Oh," said Anna. "Right." She turned and ran up the stairs.

"My old mate Barbossa," said Jack, adjusting his hat with one hand as he waved the sabre with the other. "I've been looking forward to this fight for a long time."

Barbossa got up. Gusts of air circled the two as Barbossa's teeth began to elongate into fangs. "So have I, Jack. So have I."

* * *

Holly backflipped as Anck-su-namun barely missed her collarbone, rolling to her feet. Without waiting for her to recover, Anck-su-namun cartwheeled forward and parried the buzz baton with her dagger. Holly ducked a thrust and moved backward one step... 

And her foot felt nothing beneath it. Then she stumbled as her foot went through the hole created by the explosion from Rick's pistol. The buzz baton tumbled out of her loose grip and rolled out of reach. She was stuck, and at her opponent's mercy. D'Arvit.

Pressure on her collar; Anck-su-namun grasping her by the front of her jumpsuit, hoisting her into the air. Long graceful fingers snaked around her neck, almost gentle at first, then suddenly terrifyingly strong, squeezing, strangling her. Holly gasped for air, aimed a kick at Anck-su-namun, but the girl merely held her out of reach. She was choking. The world was breaking up in spots. Air...she needed air...

Through the blurry world there came a new noise, a sharp swift hiss, and then a fleshy, sickly sound. Suddenly the iron bands around her throat loosened, weakened. Holly's vision regained its clarity, and she saw Anck-su-namun stagger, eyes open in shock. Then she looked down and saw the dagger point sticking out of her strangler's chest. Looking around Anck-su-namun's shoulder, she saw Evelyn, propped up on one elbow, one arm still raised from throwing that dagger. That was the last thing she saw before Anck-su-namun toppled off the platform, taking Holly down with her, and above her she heard Imhotep's cry of despair.

"_Anck...su...namun..._"

* * *

Verona's fangs lengthened. Éowyn felt herself being dragged up to face the Bride, who leaned forward for a bite. 

"Get away from me, monster," hissed Éowyn, whipping Van Helsing's silver stake out of her sleeve and staking Verona in the heart.

Time stopped. Verona's mouth fell open. "You...you didn't..."

"I did," snarled Éowyn.

Verona gave a half gasp, half scream, and dropped Éowyn.

Aragorn and Faramir paused to look up at Verona. Even the other two Brides stopped harassing them to watch in growing horror.

In mid-air, Verona staggered backwards, reeling, her wings unable to beat. Then they began to shrivel, to blacken into shreds of flesh, and her fangs retreat, and her face diminish. They caught a glimpse of the beautiful black-haired beauty she had once been, and then in a rush her features were rotted. What had once been Verona withered into a black sooty skeleton, and then mere dust on the air.

Aleera caught her breath in horror. "_Verona! No!_"

"_No......_" echoed Marishka.

And then they were keening and rending their hair, mourning their lost sister.

* * *

Root stared at the Neutrino, then up into the shaft. "Holly? _Holly_?" 

There was silence for a long time. A very long time. Then as if in answer, something that resembled a woman's corpse came tumbling down the shaft and disappeared into the dungeon. Next, Captain Short shot through the hole blasted by the Reductor curse and tumbled down the rubble slope.

"Oh, hello, Holly," said Artemis uncertainly.

Holly did not answer. Instead, she removed her helmet, let out a long-drawn sigh and lay sprawled and unmoving on the rubble slope.

Root and Artemis advanced hesitantly. "Holly?" ventured Artemis eventually. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," said Foaly from behind. "You don't look so good."

Holly opened one eye. "Just to tell you, it was one heck of a battle. Now leave me alone."

"Oh well, she _sounds_ fine," pouted Foaly.

Just then, a cry echoed down the shaft. "Anck-su-namun!"

Holly scrambled to her feet, jamming her helmet back on. "Oh, not good, not good."

As they backed away from the rubble slope, a hand appeared at the edge, scrabbling about on the rubble. Then another. Then Imhotep scrambled through the gap and strode down the slope towards them.

"Don't tell me," whispered Holly as they formed a tight group away from the advancing Egyptian, "don't tell me he jumped down after her."

"I should not be surprised," replied Ardeth.

Imhotep stared at them through haunted eyes. "Anck-su-namun, Anck-su-namun, where is she? Where is she, tell me!"

"I always thought he was slightly loony," muttered Foaly.

Imhotep flung about frantically, then turned back to them. "I shall have my vengeance!" he roared, and drew his scimitar.

"Well," replied Ardeth from behind Harry, "I shall have mine." Pushing Harry and Ron aside, he drew his own sword and rushed forward. The Medjai and the priest met with a clang of bronze on bronze, and soon the sounds of their battle echoed about the hall.

"What do we do?" whispered Ron.

"Don't try to shoot or anything," warned Holly, "they're fighting so fast you're likely to hit the wrong one."

"Ardeth..." squeaked Alex.

"This is horrible," muttered Ron. "I bet nothing worse can happen to us."

A group of Dwergi came charging round the corner, faces alien in their goggles, each wielding some sort of weapon, a cattle prod, a scythe, a crowbar, anything that would hurt when hit with.

"I wish you hadn't said that," groaned Hermione.

* * *

Van Helsing slowly backed away as Dracula advanced on him. Dracula was gleeful, a laugh crinkling his dapper features. 

"Well, well, Gabriel. Oh, why so scared? You know you've been wanting this, all along. Now I'll give you back all you wanted, your memory, your past..." His fangs hung down, dripping venom, as he cornered Van Helsing. "One bite is all it takes..."

Van Helsing felt something; a change in the air. Behind Dracula, the clouds rolled away like an unveiling curtain, and the full moon shone forth in its unearthly glory. Van Helsing morphed like lightning, his human skin ripping apart as he leapt on Dracula.

Dracula shrieked and became the bat creature, but the claws holding him down were far too strong. The Wolf howled in triumph, and then with a swift toss of the head, his fangs ripped out Dracula's jugular vein.

Dracula screamed, screamed, screamed in all imaginable agony, writhing as he shrunk in on himself. The Wolf was not finished yet. He picked up Dracula like a rag doll and flung him out of the window.

It was a neat throw. Rick and Evelyn jumped away and ran for the shelter of the stairwell as Dracula landed in the revival pod, where the prisoners would have been if they had been less lucky. The Wolf in the tower roared as lightning zigzagged down from the sky and struck the tortured count, again, and again, and again.

* * *

While Ardeth fought Imhotep, the rest were regrouping to face the onslaught of Dwergi. "People who are weaponless and can't fight, get behind. Holly and I will take the front. Oh, and Holly, here's your blaster. You wizard Mud Boys, on either side. Get ready." 

"If only I had my wand," lamented Hermione, "but Imhotep took it away."

"You can have mine," offered Ron out of the blue.

Hermione turned to Ron in surprise. "You...you really mean it? That's...that's really nice of you."

Ron blushed, and shoved his wand into Hermione's hands awkwardly. "Erm, just take it. It'll be more useful with you anyway. I'll...throw rocks or something."

They hurriedly got into formation. Commander Root opened fire on the front row of Dwergi, which collapsed satisfyingly. "_Impedimenta_!" yelled Harry as Hermione aimed and cried: "_Stupefy_!" More Dwergi fell as Holly picked out a few with more dangerous weapons expertly with the Neutrino. A rock thrown by Ron whistled over a head and concussed one.

Suddenly, they had a huge fright. Blue electricity sizzled down the wires into each of the cocoons hanging from the ceiling. Everywhere around them, the cocoons burst into brilliant blue light and began pulsing with life. Again the lightning washed over them, and the air was filled with the sound of tiny shrieks. A third time, a third bolt, and the vampire babies burst free, chittering wildly, darkening the hall with their uncountable wings.

"Oh, _D'Arvit!_" swore Root.

One of the babies swooped down and grabbed a Dwergi, flying into the dark recesses of the ceiling to feast on its new prey. The team of rescuers rushed for shelter in the shaft, although the two Egyptians seemed too busy to break away from their fight. Ron shoved Hermione and Alex into the shaft as Harry and Artemis hurried up the rubble slope behind him. Holly and Root kept up the rear, shooting any vampire babies that came too close and exploding them into bursts of green goo. But soon they would be overwhelmed.

* * *

The Wolf watched as Dracula writhed in the pod, liquid lightning running in colourful streams over his body as he twitched in agony. The count raised his eyes to the dark heavens, and let out one long-drawn tormented shriek. Then his body was still.

* * *

The Brides felt their master die, shrieked in horror at his demise. Aragorn, Faramir and Éowyn watched them keen their grief, eyeing them in amazement. Then suddenly both Aleera and Marishka began to shrivel up too, collapsing in on themselves into withered corpses. Their dying screams were echoing about the tower walls long after they had disintegrated.

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow watched in disbelief as the vampire Barbossa clutched his chest, sabre clattering to the floor, and began to dry up before his eyes. Soon, the captain was left staring at nothing but a mound of dust, a sabre and a woebegone pirate hat. 

Jack swore colourfully pirate style. "The cantankerous knave!" he yelled, kicking the hat on the floor. "I hadn't even _started_!"

* * *

The Dwergi had well-nigh fled by the time the vampire babies started coming after Holly and Root. Root was just about to accept their doom when a startled look registered on all the little monsters' faces. Then, in synchrony, they all burst into a massive explosion of green goo. 

There was a sudden silence in the hall. Goo dripped off the ceiling. Commander Root was unlucky enough to be situated right under a whole squad of vampire baby remnants.

"D'Arvit!"

Holly looked at her slime-drenched commander, and then back at the hall, trying her best to keep a straight face. Then she saw Ardeth standing over Imhotep, who was lying face down on the ground with Ardeth's sword in his back.

Imhotep had not been a vampire, so he had not shrivelled up when Count Dracula had. However, he had been resurrected by the malevolent influence of the count, and as a result that made him mortal at Dracula's demise.

Ardeth Bay removed his sword, and kicked Imhotep over so his face was seen. "Allah rest his soul, evil though it was."

And they were all very glad inside, because they knew Count Dracula was dead, at long last.

**End of Chapter**

_Next chapter coming... _**Footprints in the Snow**

In which it ends, at long last.


	13. Footprints in the Snow

**Evil from the Past**

**Footprints in the Snow**

_Castle Dracula, Transylvania, 19th century_

Anna heard the clock chime again as she raced up the stairs towards the laboratory. "Eleven," she murmured to herself. One more before Van Helsing went beyond salvation.

Sparks flew about her as she stepped into the laboratory and witnessed the werewolf crouched by the window as lightning crashed down from the sky outside. The syringe was ready in her hand, and she clutched it tightly, muttering a prayer to God. Then she ran towards the man she had come to free.

But the werewolf was aware of her presence. Even before she had neared him, he spun around with a snarl and took one giant leap towards her. Anna screamed and backed away, even as she knew she could not run from the monster Van Helsing had become. Yet the hand holding the syringe before her was strangely steady.

The werewolf was coming down upon her, a huge enraged mass of black fur descending upon her. She shut her eyes. Let him take her, if only she could release the man trapped inside the curse.

Then something hit her. Hard. She was crushed to the ground and the air forced out of her lungs in a painful gasp. She opened her eyes; Van Helsing...she needed to make sure...

And found that it was not the werewolf that had felled her, but Captain Jack Sparrow.

"Jack?" she exclaimed in amazement. "What on earth d'you think..."

Jack rolled off her and offered her a hand to help her up. "Can't do anything without me, can you," he said, amused. "I run all the way up here, and find nought but you in danger of being squashed. So naturally I had to knock you out of the way. And a little thanks'd be in place, lass."

"Thanks," put in Anna hurriedly. "But – Van Helsing..."

They both turned to look at the werewolf. He was still, standing frozen before them, the only movement the glimmer of his black eyes. Then Anna's eyes were riveted to the syringe sticking out of the black fur – empty.

A rush of hope welled up inside her. She had done it – she hadn't failed him. Tentatively she took a step towards the motionless werewolf, and then another.

"Anna..." warned Jack, but she paid him no heed. Step after step, until the girl and the beast were almost nose-to-nose. Anna gazed into those tiny, feral black eyes and watched in wonder as they slowly lost their fires of hate and filled with memory, with realisation, with relief. The clock chimed its last stroke, even as Van Helsing stood before her, the Van Helsing she knew – and loved.

They were free. Free from the burden of her family's curse, free from the need of vengeance, free from the fear of his corrupted soul. And there was to be a future, for both of them...

"Anna," he spoke softly, and she felt a thrill run through her, breaking down the hardened self she had become in the years of the hunt for Dracula.

Tears of happiness and relief filled Anna's eyes as she stepped into Van Helsing's embrace, marvelling at the lightness of her own heart. Warmth engulfed her along with his arms as she felt peace for the first time in a long while, that her family was free to enter Heaven, that Van Helsing had been saved, that she could rest, at least for a little while. Evil had been vanquished, and hate along with it. Leaving behind only love.

* * *

The group of unlikely allies stood in front of the wreck of Castle Dracula. Foaly at the door of his Time Shuttle; Rick supporting Evelyn slightly; Captain Jack Sparrow with his crew; Van Helsing holding Anna's hand.

"I guess it's goodbye," said Holly eventually.

Anna nodded reluctantly. "Thank you for all that you gave for our mission, in destroying Dracula – and especially Jack. You saved my life."

Jack shrugged. "It be nothing, lass. And I dread what your lad would have done to be if I hadn't."

Van Helsing laughed.

"We're going back to our time in the Shuttle," announced Foaly. "You lot are coming, aren't you?"

"Of course," replied Aragorn. "My kingdom needs me."

"Snape would kill us if we didn't make it back to pass up the Potions essay," remarked Ron darkly.

"And Evy needs to rest," added Rick, "until the next time Imhotep gets resurrected."

"Let us hope that shall not come to pass," said Ardeth softly.

"Nah," declared Mr. Gibbs. "We're going to find our way back through this blasted forest to our ship, and," here he cast a deprecating glance in Jack's direction, "finish our _holiday_."

"Us too," spoke up Anna. "We'll go back to the village."

"I won't be going back to the Order," added Van Helsing. "After all, I don't belong to them, and I'm no longer interested in discovering my past. Not after what I found for the future." He nudged Anna gently, and she beamed at him.

"...and perhaps we might stay for awhile," Holly was saying to Éowyn. "I really like your place, you know. Lovely scenery you've got there."

"Indeed? Oh, thank you," answered the shieldmaiden awkwardly. "Actually, I never really noticed...but you're welcome to, anyway."

Hermione approached Foaly and Artemis somewhat timidly. "Erm, after all we've been through together... well, I'd like to thank you for...being there...and I was hoping we could be friends."

Artemis stared. "Well," he said at last. "It _can_ be done."

"Oh stuff it, Mud Boy," laughed Holly, and slapped him in the shoulder. Artemis winced unhappily.

Foaly grinned at Hermione. "Well, are you people getting in?"

They began to file inside the Shuttle. Foaly went last of all. He turned and waved to the group outside. Jack waved back. Then the doors shut with a pneumatic hiss, and the Time Shuttle disappeared without a trace, leaving not a hint they had been there...

...except the footprints in the snow...

**End of Chapter **

**End of Everything**

Now, here comes the Author's Afterword!

Just to say, it's been a truly grand experience, writing this first fanfic, and I loved it. It makes me triumphant, relieved and sad that it's ended. I hope you loved it, readers. I do hope so.

I've had some loyal fans and supporters to aid me along the way. Here I shall acknowledge you, if I think you've been truly supportive of my fanfiction.

**manveri[reachforthesky]estel **(lately manveri[daughterofmirkwood)

who has been a real darling all this while, what with pestering, nagging and squishing, and who has been my main classroom confidante in the matters of fanfiction _and _the only one to state that it was actually Verona who was my favourite Bride of Dracula.

**Asha Ice**

who has been fairly helpful over the romance bits (although she _does_ have more reviews than me, but I'll get my own back later) and who has led to major massacres in certain places.

**Sine-noir**

who, although only reviewing twice, was very supportive and comforting during the flame attack, and who is the only one beside the Brides that really thinks Dracula is hot.

**Kismet Truths**

who made the all-time record of 11 reviews in one go, and who also has given me many tips over the romance bits.

**My Angel**

who has sacrificed a lot of homework and study time to be distracted by my fanfiction, and has been encouraging me in her letters.

**Codefun**

who, despite my lectures, passed up several continuously grammatically incorrect reviews, but who is still greatly loved nevertheless.

**mad sam **

who was my first-ever reviewer, and continued to review to the last.

**Cerse**

who battled the storms of skepticism, to remain a faithful (though still skeptic) reviewer to the very end.

**I AM EOWYN**

who has faithfully reviewed since Chapter 4 and been enthusiastically cheering Éowyn on from the review box.

And lastly, but so definitely not least:

**My parents and my little sister**

who never gave a single review, but who have always been there for me, at the beginning and the end of this fic, and for the rest of my life as well.

And after acknowledging all these wonderful people, my work is done. I know many of you shall express so at the end of my beloved fanfiction, but I'm not done yet. Don't expect a sequel to this (unless I go slightly more high) but I have more stuff in the works. Perhaps I shall write a really huge crossover. This is nothing (wait till you see me hyper. Not recommended for skeptics like Cerse). Or I might just go ahead with that weird idea of Artemis Fowl: The Musical. Anyway, I won't rest long. I can't rest long.

Look for me upon my return. And that, I assure you, will be soon.


End file.
